


ah

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: ܐܪܡܝܐ | ארמיא
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:56:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 124,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28648671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Chapter 1

Hizashi can't help but keep glancing over at Shouta, his head resting on his arms, ostensibly watching Hizashi cook dinner. But he knows that quiet too well to trust it, and it's a bit much for the usual pre-mission nerves. "Worried about how the kids will do?"

Shouta doesn't look up, but he lifts his head to rest his chin on his hand. That's a 'no' if he ever saw one.

He makes it easier for his husband, setting the soup to simmer lower and walks over, close enough for Shouta to press his head into his side, like a cat begging for attention. He threads his fingers through his hair, wanting to wrap him up in his arms but he knows Shouta won't tell him what's going on if he doesn't let him say it.

"After Kamino ward, I moved a few cases off of my docket," Shouta says, and Hizashi encourages him with a hum. Shouta had worried over the decision for days, but between being there for his traumatized students and a few low-level investigations that could turn out to be duds, there really wasn't a choice. "Rough looking kid was stealing from a bookstore with his quirk. Voice activated emitter. The owner was completely deaf, so it didn't work. She reported it because she was worried he was being abused or neglected."

Shouta pulls away from him, and Hizashi lets his hands fall to his husband's shoulders. Shouta can't look him in the eye, staring at his stomach.

"Sir Nighteye looked into it, for the case. Cracked it wide open, in fact. The kid is the girl's caretaker, and the 8 Precepts use his quirk to control her."

"He's not a member?" Hizashi asks.

Shouta sucks a breath, his head leans forward but he stops himself from seeking comfort. Blames himself. "Sir Nighteye used Foresight on him. Not all of it was in the report." Had to punish himself. "It was too gruesome to let the students know. They will torture him, and Sir Nighteye said he didn't react as if that was new. Then Chisaki uses his quirk…"

"After the rescue..." he asks, because he has to know. He has to make Shouta show him where it hurts the most.

"...He doesn't make it."

Hizashi doesn't care that Shouta flinches away, he pulls him close and wraps his arms around him.

"If I just-"

"No," Hizashi stops him. "What if you did and Bakugo had a breakdown? You know it was touch and go for a while, and any little thing could have made the difference. What if you did, but the 8 Precepts caught him? Shou, you know there's only one man with a quirk that can see the future, and even he doesn't trust it."

Shouta doesn't answer, and Hizashi doesn't expect him to. He'll carry the weight until the mission is over, and Hizashi hopes upon hope that Sir Nighteye is right, in that he can be wrong.

"Worrying about what a fortune teller says when the fortune teller himself says it might not be true isn't very logical , Shou. Now, I'm going to finish up this soup, and you're going to eat it. Looking after the problem child is hard enough, but the kid is so fired up about it, he'll probably run into a wall and break all of his bones right out the gate!"

Shouta groans, collapsing fully into Hizashi's embrace as he imagines it. Hizashi laughs and ruffles his husband's hair.

He hopes all the kids come back safe. Every last one of them.

But he adds another to that list.


	2. Chapter 2

"And he was like 'fwoosh!' And I was like 'waaah!' It was really amazing, Mr. Detective! And then I ate candy apples, and they're really tasty!"

Aizawa tries not to grin as Eri recounts the highlights of the Cultural Festival for what could honestly be the hundredth time. It happened over a week ago, but from her enthusiasm, it might as well have happened five minutes ago.

Naomasa just smiles, the weariness that had been on his face softened as Eri's audience. "Wow! I'm jealous, Eri! It sounds like you had a lot of fun!"

Eri nods, but Aizawa can predict the change in mood as she begins to pick at the hem of her dress. She shrinks in on herself, rocking back and forth on her feet. "Mr. Detective, where's Twenny?"

And there it was.

He was surprised she was able to ask. She didn't like asking questions from people she didn't know were safe, and the only people she considered safe were the heroes that rescued her. Even Present Mic wasn't on that list yet.

But everyone wanted to know where Twenny was. Hizashi asked, Mirio asked. Eri asked at least 10 times a day, and usually had a crying fit no matter what he answered her with.

Aizawa wanted to know too, and from the look Naomasa gave him, he was going to find out today.

"He's safe now, Eri, and we're all hoping you can see him soon! In fact, I was hoping you could sit down with my friend Hanajima and talk to her about Twenny again! Is that okay?"

Eri nods, sharp and determined. It wavers when she sees the dark haired psychologist approach, but after a cheerful greeting, she follows, only glancing back at Aizawa twice before they go into the kid friendly interrogation room.

"Let's go to my office," Naomasa says, as though it's a normal occurrence. The detective preferred to talk in the bullpen or outside of an interrogation room unless it was about a case with a highly classified rating. That shouldn't be the case for who Aizawa suspects is a good kid who fell in with the worst crowd, but it would explain why any information about him went dark over a month ago, before the kid even regained consciousness.

Aizawa frowns when he's not just led into Naomasa’s office, but through a second door with two locks and a fingerprint scanner. To the All For One office.

He's been here twice before, to give his report about USJ and the attack during the summer training exercise. He doesn't like the implications here, nor the way half of a wall has been cleared up with strings leading from the pictures of the Nomu production facility to a group of photographs depicting number tattoos. The discolored green skin surrounding 388 suggests it’s a picture of a Nomu, but the others are clearly human.

Dead humans. 44, 50, 61, 102, all in black ink with a tell-tale blue tinge at the edges.

But 27 was different, a bright neon purple hue cast over the picture, turned darker in a rectangle surrounding the number. The person who had that tattoo was alive.

"To start from the top, Twenny's name is Shinsou Hitoshi," Naomasa says, pushing forward a missing child's report on his desk. The grinning child with a missing front tooth has darker purple hair, but it's definitely the same kid he last saw comatose on a hospital bed. "His mother reported him missing 11 years ago, after he didn't return home from school. There were no leads, and his file went cold 6 years ago. The father had passed a year before he was kidnapped, and the mother moved to France afterwards. When the local police made contact with her two weeks ago, she didn't react well. They lost her trail shortly after."

Aizawa frowns, looking at the kid's picture again. The rings under his eyes are deep, eyes that he thought were wide with excitement could have a tinge of fear in them, now that he looks for it. He doesn’t like what he begins to suspect, but a mother that runs from her long lost child and succeeds in evading the police doesn’t paint the best picture.

"The 8 Precepts didn't kidnap him. They kept meticulous records of their finances, even if most of the transactions are encrypted, but their purchase of '27' wasn't well hidden. The receipt states they paid 28 million yen for ‘27,’ 12 years old according to the notes, 3 years and 8 months ago."

A receipt. For a child. Aizawa wishes that was a new one for him.

"It was the only human trafficking transaction we’ve found so far from the 8 Precepts. Since the timeline seemed to add up with Shinsou’s age, and ‘Twenny’ could be a nickname for ‘27,’ I invited a tattoo expert to look for a trafficking brand that might have been covered up, to find out who had him beforehand, and we found that number under the black band on his arm. The ink in the number has a unique composition, and matches the other cases you can see on the wall.”

“Including the Nomu?” Aizawa asks, even if he truly doesn’t want to know. He’s suspected that human trafficking rings were supplying the ‘parts’ for Nomus for a while now, but to know that a kid that had been so important to Eri had nearly been turned into one unsettles him.

“Including most of the Nomus we’ve encountered,” Naomasa answers, confirming that Shinsou Hitoshi’s missing child report certainly belonged in this room. “We haven’t been able to gather much about this Nomu Organization. We know that they must have two sides to their business, as the humans we recovered have the same ink that the Nomus do, but every Nomu has a number that begins with ‘3.’ Eri told us that Shinsou belonged to 'a bad place' before he was bought by the 8 Precepts, but she couldn't give us much more than that. She might have been told not to talk about it."

"What makes you say that?" Aizawa asks. Eri being uncomfortable talking about certain topics was, quite understandably, nothing new. Especially about Twenny, who by all accounts seemed to be the only positive influence in her life. Her only anchor, now missing, and she didn’t like to remember the void he left.

Naomasa shifts his feet, unsettled. "There have been two attempts on Shinsou's life since he was rescued."

Aizawa was rarely shocked, but to hear that Naomasa's team had failed to protect a witness under their protection twice? It was almost impossible to believe.

"An hour after I filed my findings about the tattoo, a security guard caught a nurse trying to inject air into his IV. She escaped, but records show she wasn't an employee. We still haven’t been able to identify her, despite her having unique quirk features. We had to take him to a juvenile facility at that point, where we could keep eyes on him at all times. That's where we found out how deep this runs."

Naomasa taps on a screen mounted on the wall, security footage of Shinsou and a female police officer in an isolation cell, frame frozen, before Naomasa hits play.

" Well, this is your room, Mr. 27! Just hit this little button if you need anything! " The dark haired officer says with a cheery tone, as she fiddles with the box over the panic button mounted on the wall. The kid jolts, staring at the officer as she exits.

"She locked it," Aizawa mutters to himself. He knows that shade of blue hair. He's never worked with her or exchanged more than a polite greeting, but he's seen her around the station since he became a hero. She had been at the station for years before that.

It runs deep .

Frames of the kid move quickly, showing him pacing the cell, running a hand over his arm over the gray prison jumpsuit, before he finally sits on the bench, staring at the door as the hours tick by on the top of the screen.

Then, the door opens to a crowd of prisoners barrelling through. Strength quirks, projectile quirks, all of them flooding in.

The kid reacts like he would, rushing forward to maintain the advantage of the bottleneck from the doorway. He uses the number of opponents to secure human shields, grapples and throws around attackers twice his size.

Completely unarmed and without an offensive quirk, the kid holds out longer than he thought he would. Then, while the kid tries to joint lock a fire breather's arm, he drops, clutching the side that had been vulnerable while his arm was outstretched. Blood pools on the floor quickly, quickly enough for Aizawa to recognize what it was.

That wasn't a lucky hit. Stabbing a major artery around the kidney was the move of a master assassin, and it happened during a prison riot no less. Aizawa looks for the two projectile users he spotted, but they were being dragged out by the rioters who were retreating far too calmly.

" Shh, shh, it's okay little bro."

Shinsou was the only person in the cell.

" Man, the Precepts did a number on ya. Look at what they did to your hair," the voice continues, as the matted nest of hair lifts up by an invisible hand

" No...no," Shinsou whimpers, fingers pressed desperately to his side.

The other voice sighs, his voice turning oddly despondent. " I didn't want to be the one to do it, you know. But Bug fucked up, and the police are catching on. And trust me, you don't want to go home, we're mixed up in some awful stuff now. Just…" The fabric of the uniform moves, like a hand is smoothing out the sleeve. " It's gonna be alright. It's all over, all the messed up shit you went through is done. You're just gonna close your eyes… and fall asleep."

The kid went limp, as if on cue. Anger rattled hot through Aizawa's chest.

" Shit, why did I tell you… so unprofessional," the voice sniffs, then changes his tone. " Well, it's clean up time!"

Naomasa pauses the video. "If the guard that found him didn't have a minor healing quirk, Shinsou would have died. Officer Nagoa wasn't so lucky."

Aizawa won't be crying over that anytime soon. "Where is he now?"

"Here, at the station. We put him in an interrogation room close to the barracks and only the people I trust are allowed near it. We have eyes on him at all times, while we try to sort out a wardship designation." Naomasa runs a hand over his hair, and Aizawa realizes how dark the circles under his eyes are, suspects that he hasn’t left the station in days. "The Commission is willing to approve just about anyone with the right quirk, considering-"

"Considering his tattoo matches the ones on the majority of the Nomus we’ve come across," Aizawa growls. "Since this mystery organization was able to place two hits on a witness in police custody, they're extremely well connected. It's possible they are a branch of All for One's empire that thrived where others didn't. That makes getting information on them from Shinsou critical."

Naomasa's frown deepens, but he doesn't refute it. The Commission didn't deal in compassion cases. They wanted intel, and Shinsou's best interests just happened to coincide.

"Midnight does well with her wardship cases, and I know she's available. Why hasn't she been contacted?"

"General anaesthesia doesn't always work on Shinsou, so we can't know if her quirk is 100% effective, if it would be necessary," the detective answers, then sighs. "Ms. Joke has a vocal emitter quirk, so he would be able to avoid it. I've been through the shortlist and the long list, and the best fit is a long shot."

"All Might?" Aizawa asks. Even if he doesn't think Naomasa is completely blinded in the choice, as the staff dorm at UA seems to be the only safe place left for Shinsou, he still doubts it. He's not sure if Toshinori is even certified for wardship cases.

"Present Mic," Naomasa answers. "Of course, that would just be on paper. Principal Nezu agreed to change the records to show Present Mic's address as the dorm room he was assigned, but I don't expect him to actually move in to it. Since Present Mic is deaf, it’s possible that Shinsou’s quirk wouldn’t be able to affect him. But we both know that the arrangement is just to give The Commission enough plausible deniability to ignore two wards living together."

His eyebrows raise. "That policy is in place for a good reason. Eri needs constant supervision due to her quirk, not to mention what living with a reminder of her time at the 8 Precepts could do to her mental state. There has to be someone else."

"No one I can trust," Naomasa admits, gesturing around the room. "Very few heroes know what you know, Eraserhead. You're one of the most insightful heroes I know, which will help tremendously with the investigation. Your quirk is the perfect counter for his, and on top of all of that, I know you care."

Of course he did. Any hero should, but more than he was willing to admit, more than he should considering his responsibility to Eri, he did want to be the one to take Shinsou in. Despite what Hizashi said, the case he pushed off of his docket stayed stuck in his mind.

"Hanajima is evaluating Eri right now to address the concerns we both have about the two of them living together. If she gives us the clear, both of you can meet with him today. Seeing them interact is the best indicator we can have, and if Present Mic is available, that's even better." Naomasa glances at his phone after it pings, nodding at the message. "She cleared it. If you refuse, I understand. You know Eri better than anyone. But if you agree to meet him, to see the situation with your own eyes-"

"I'll see it, then," Aizawa agrees warily. "Let me call Mic."

"Before you do, though…."

*

Aizawa watches Eri through the observation window as she combs through a doll's hair, still oblivious to the fact that her former caretaker was only a few doors down the hall. He wonders what her reaction will be when she sees him, whether Hanajima had been convinced to look away from a warning sign due to the urgency of the case. If Eri will freeze up at the memories they’ve tried to shield her from, or if she will truly be relieved after all of her desperate pleading to see Twenny.

He doesn’t know if this is a good idea, but to decide that, he needs more information. There are other concerns he has apart from Eri’s wellbeing.

" Shou, I thought we were going to bring home a cat next, not a teenager ," Hizashi laughs through the phone. " It's kind of a leap, but you know I'm on board! What kind of hero would I be if I refused? "

"It's going to be a lot tougher than Eri," Aizawa warns. "He's been in that world a lot longer, without a single anchor as far as we know."

" Except for Eri ," Hizashi says. " These things have a habit of going both ways. It could be good for both of them. "

Eri smoothes the doll's dress, looking around the room for her next target to play with. Aizawa forces himself to ask, for this Shinsou’s sake. He doesn’t want to, but Hizashi knows about it far better than anyone else he could look to. "Zashi, during that time in middle school… What helped?"

Hizashi is quiet for a long time. He doesn't like talking about that. " ...He has a voice activated quirk... It's no wonder, but… you know how bad that is for him, right, Shou? "

He knows. Hizashi has told him enough to know. "I know. We're supposed to meet with him soon. To see how Eri will react. I’m still not convinced it’s a good idea, but I don’t want to put him through more stress than is necessary either."

Hizashi breathes in, and Aizawa can picture his determined nodding. " Just, don't try to make him talk. Give him some other way to answer if you really need to ask him a question. Maybe try to reign in Eri if she tries... The expectation of talking is just the worst, you know? "

"I'll talk to her," Aizawa says, releasing a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "There's more, a lot more. I haven't even read the whole file. We need to properly talk about it before we make any decisions."

" I know, Shou. If Nemuri didn’t make me be the dorm mother today, I'd be there with you. So since I can't, get Eri to give you a big ol' hug from me! "

Aizawa smiles, refusing to let the offer tempt him. "I'll let you know how it goes."

" You better! Love you! "

"...Love you."

*

Shouta is the most reserved man Yamada has ever known. He’s not cold or callous, despite what some expelled students might swear, but just incredibly hard to read.

It’s made living with an adorable child like Eri a real treat. Especially during moments like this, where Shouta walks through the door to find Mirio clipping a towel around her shoulders as she holds up a length of toilet paper wrapped around her neck to protect it from being torn.

Because if Mirio insists on dressing her up as a hero, then she needs her own capture scarf, of course.

Shouta honest to god blushes and has to turn his head away from the sight to regain his composure, and Yamada doesn’t blame him. He knows one day he’ll find Eri with a comb and tub of hair gel, trying to get her hair into a perfect 'swoosh', and he’ll probably die right there on the spot.

“Sensei, doesn’t Eri look like the cutest hero you’ve ever seen?!” Mirio gushes, lifting her up effortlessly. “It’s Super Eri! Savior of Twenny’s and kitties all around the world!”

Eri grimaces in determination, a pretty adorable imitation of All Might, raising her tiny fist high. Yamada doesn’t know how Shouta is still standing in the onslaught of this cuteness.

He manages to ruffle her hair affectionately, ducking his head ever so slightly to hide his soft expression. “She’s my favorite hero, obviously.”

Eri doesn’t quite smile, but Shinsou was right, it’s always been hiding in her eyes. Yamada tries to save his husband before he passes out at the sight, dramatically pouting. “I’m not your favorite hero?!”

Mirio turns her around, and he’s nearly blinded by the full-force of her blushing embarrassment. “Sensei, this is Super Eri we’re talking about!”

“Ahhh, you’re right! Super Eri is my favorite hero too!” Yamada gushes, watching Shouta make his retreat to the kitchen, to Yamada’s side. Mirio catches the look on Shouta’s face, and tells Eri that they should practice her flying abilities as part of her hero training. With an excited nod of agreement, he heaves her up over his head, running through the hallway with exaggerated ‘whoosh’s and ‘fwoosh’s for effect.

“Nezu gave me a few blueprints to look over, for us to decide how we want the remodel to look. He said he can have it finished before the school day ends, so Eri won’t have to be moved,” Shouta says, placing a folder on the counter.

“It feels a little weird to pick how it will look when this place isn’t really ours,” Yamada says, flipping through a few layouts. “Kinda scary, especially from our boss. Maybe it’s one of his psychological tests.... Did he say anything else about it?”

“He thinks it’s a good idea for Eri,” Shouta answers, but the corner of his mouth pulls down, unconvinced. “Specifically, he said that traumatic bonds are like a knife wound. You can’t just yank it out without anything to treat what’s left behind.”

Yamada doesn’t quite like with the wording, but the sentiment seems accurate.

“He also said the timing is right for Eri, as she will probably have more difficulties now that the shock is wearing off. She's...” Shouta stops, folding his arms. "Really different with Shinsou. More open than I’ve ever seen her before.”

“Well, there’s a lot of trust between them,” Yamada says, taking a sip of tea. “They were kept in the same room for days on end, surrounded by violent gangsters on the outside. He was pretty much her parent, picking up books on child development, teaching her how to read and write and speak. She’s advanced for her age in those areas thanks to him. She kept him sane, and he protected her as much as he could.”

“He used his quirk on her,” Shouta says, neither positively nor negatively. Just logically. “I don’t think he ever wanted to, but that’s something that he did, time and time again. Traumatized children crave control, and with his quirk- ”

“That’s why it has to be you, Shou,” Yamada answers with a shrug. “You’re the only one who can redirect him if it gets to that, but I don’t think that will happen anytime soon. When vocal quirks become mute…” 

He pauses, and takes another sip before he continues. He knows Shouta catches it, but he doesn’t exactly hide things from him. He just knows there are some things he doesn’t have to say. 

“We’re rejecting our quirk. Out of anyone, he probably has the most reason to.”

Mirio ‘fwoosh’s into the living room, spinning around as Eri gives a quiet little “waaah.” After he realizes the atmosphere is still tense, they ‘woosh’ back away as quick as they arrived.

“I think we should do this, Shouta. I want to do it.” Yamada says. 

If he thinks of a blonde haired middle schooler who kept crumpling up his UA application, torn between the hero he wanted to become and the villain he thought he was to have deafened his own parents, he doesn’t say it. He knows he doesn’t have to.

Shouta leans against him and sighs, relieved though he would never admit it. “You should probably rescue Eri before Mirio tires her out, if you still want to take her with you.”

“Of course I do! I want to see my cute little bean hang out with her favorite friend, Twenny!" Yamada says, a bit louder than he needed to, but two sets of running feet answer him from down the hall. "Maybe we could go on a shopping spree afterwards, if we're feeling up to it."

Shouta smiles, small and fleeting, and it almost makes him want to take him too, forgetting why he's insistent on doing the shopping instead of his husband.

Because he learned his lesson, and Shinsou does not deserve to have to walk out of the police station covered head to toe in pastels and cats.

*

Shouta told him what to expect, but words really couldn’t do it justice.

The kid huddled in on himself in the interrogation room looks rough, but that word doesn’t really begin to describe it. His skin is too pale, stretched too taut for someone so young. The scars on his cheeks and jaw are hardly the only ones he has, but the police academy sweatshirt hides the worst of them. One of those long grooved scars peeks out over his collarbone and ends right before his neck, reminding Yamada that the report couldn’t quite determine what caused them. His damaged hair starts as a light purple near his scalp, but fades off in shades, with matted bunches at the back of his head not just white with dead hair, but clumps that have fused together and stick to the mess.

His eyes are the most haunting part. There’s nothing in them.

As a hero, he’s seen dead people walking. It’s something he got used to after his first year, because if you really look, you can always find something . Sometimes it’s shock, a veil that falls away in shades over time, and he’s seen plenty of that. Other times, it’s pain, it’s fear, it’s anger. There’s always a speck of something, even if it’s hidden and fleeting.

There’s nothing there, until Yamada opens the door and Shinsou sees Eri.

Shinsou breathes in, and his eyes light up. Hope, relief, happiness, all in equal measure. Even the mask of his blank expression cracks open, a smile tugging at his lips as he opens his arms to give Eri a hug, and lets her climb all over him to nestle herself against his chest.

That falls away when he sees Yamada. He doesn’t have the time to go completely blank, not after Eri cracked him open, but the kid is good at hiding his fear. It’s still set in the wideness of his eyes, now hard with suspicion, and the firm line of his lips.

Yamada gives him a cheerful wave. He can prove he can be trusted. “Hello listener! I’m Yamada Hizashi, it’s nice to finally meet you! Eri’s been an excellent hype man for you, though!”

“That means I tell people how great you are,” Eri says, curled up under Shinsou’s chin. “I told Mirio and Izuku and everyone so when you get to come home, they know that you’re really nice, and they treat you really nice too.”

Yamada doesn’t think Eri’s ever spoken this much in his presence, except to tell him stories about her day or about the festival. 

Shouta was right, she really was different. Open.

Shinsou is not. He’s extremely wary, the line of his shoulders tensed. He’s studying Yamada while avoiding his gaze, trying to assess his threat level. He hopes the casual gray turtleneck, his 'hipster' glasses and braided hair comes across exactly as he wanted - completely non-threatening.

“I-it might be a while before I do that, Eri,” the kid croaks, his voice completely hoarse. It reminds Yamada to dig into Eri’s backpack, packed with twice as many snacks as usual with a couple of Shouta’s protein jellies thrown in. “S-so you need to make sure to behave for the heroes.”

Shinsou really didn’t believe it was happening, then, despite Naomasa telling him before they entered. Instead of evaluating Yamada’s threat level, he was probably looking for a reaction to confirm whether Eri was telling the truth, but Yamada missed it. He plasters on a smile, preparing a juice box since Eri still had trouble with the straws. “Oh, it won’t be long at all! In fact, we were thinking of buying a few things today so we can have everything ready when we pick you up tomorrow evening!”

Eri takes the juice box and holds it up for Shinsou, but he doesn’t react. He just blinks, the corner of his mouth downturned as he thinks. He accidentally meets Yamada’s eyes but glances away quickly, and takes a sip from the juice to distract from his nervous reaction. Maybe Yamada’s gaze was making him feel a little scrutinized.

“It would be super helpful if you can write up a few things you'd like, since I’m pretty forgetful. Why, just yesterday I went to the store for one thing - just one thing! - and I came back with apples and hairspray and eggs, but not that the thing I wanted! I had to make another trip and take Eri with me to remind me to get lightbulbs!” Yamada rambles on, keeping his eyes on the jelly packet he’s opening, but he notices the way Shinsou is glaring at the pad of paper in front of him.

There’s something there that he can’t quite put his finger on. Naomasa’s file definitely said Shinsou was capable of writing. He had given his full and enthusiastic statement about Chisaki that way. Naomasa noted that his handwriting was pretty bad, but the police wouldn’t have brought that up to the kid or shamed him for it. His hesitance didn’t make sense.

Eri noticed Shinsou’s pause, and pulled the pen and paper into her lap, juice placed a bit too close to the edge of the table for Yamada's newly developed paternal instincts. “Twenny needs books! You really like books, right, Twenny?”

A fond smile picks at the edges of his mouth, so quick he nearly misses it, before it fades back into the worried expression he had before. “I don’t need books, Eri. Books can be expensive sometimes.”

“That’s true, books can be expensive,” Yamada says, but before Eri’s face can fall, he adds, “But I’m a teacher! An educator! I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t foster education for young people that desire it! We can - no, we must buy you some books! For my sake, at least.”

His rambling way of talking like a DJ seems to make Shinsou more relaxed, surprisingly. He’s still wary, nervously glancing up at Yamada, but he takes the pen from Eri and starts writing on the paper still held in her lap.

“Twenny wants clothes too!” Eri says, reading off the paper as though she knew Yamada couldn’t see what Shinsou was writing from that angle. Shinsou jolts when she says it, and Yamada nods aggressively to try and reassure him.

“Of course! Make sure to write down any favorite color or style. Eri will probably want to dress you up in everything that has a cat on it, and while that is super cute, it shouldn’t crowd out your own style, you know?”

The corner of Shinsou’s mouth pulls up again, and this time it stays for a while, a shy half-smile on his face. Yamada reminds himself to get a lot of cat themed clothes.

“ ‘Long sleeves?’ “ Eri reads, frowning a bit in confusion.

“It’s very cold right now, little bean! You wouldn’t want to be walking around with snowflakes sticking to your arms! Brrr!” Yamada explains, hoping to distract Eri from making Shinsou uncomfortable.

He didn’t want to remind her that she didn’t like wearing short sleeves herself. He made that mistake once, just once, with a cute little mint green romper. She twirled around, happy with her new clothes as she always was, but when she caught sight of the scars on her legs and arms in the mirror, she started crying. It was the fastest her mood had ever changed, and she was inconsolable even as Aizawa muttered assurances to her, walking her up and down the hall as she sobbed in his arms. She only calmed down when she had completely exhausted herself, falling asleep against his shoulder with her fists still knotted in his hair.

“What kind of books does Shinsou like to read?” Yamada asks, as Shinsou continues to write.

Eri perks up, poking her cheek thoughtfully. “He reads a lot of books about cats to me, but I know he can read really big books when I’m studying or coloring or asleep. There was one that had a bunch of words that mean the same thing, like how ‘red’ and ‘crimimson’ mean the same thing.”

“‘Crimson,’” Shinsou corrects, smiling softly all the same. “But that’s a hard word to say. You did a good job.”

“And you had a book that you didn’t finish, ‘cause it had a lot of different stories in it. Some of them were in English, so you had to read another big book to know what it said,” Eri says, kicking her feet excitedly as she looks at Shinsou proudly.

“Really? I teach English at my school! ‘ It is very difficult to learn! ’ “ Yamada says, lapsing into the language. He tries to use the smallest, most commonly known words to see if Shinsou recognizes them, and the way his eyes catch his for a moment tells him he did.

Then, Shinsou’s mouth opens and shuts, and his gaze turns downwards with a glare. Yamada nearly swears at himself. Shinsou seemed like a smart kid, and of course he would want to answer to prove that he could. Despite everything he told Aizawa, he ended up as the one to pressure Shinsou into talking.

“You know, if you want to keep translating that story you were working on, you can write down the title of it! I’m sure I’ll be able to find a copy!”

He gets a nod as a response, and though Shinsou doesn't look up from his writing, that’s quite a bit more than he was expecting. Aizawa said he wasn’t acknowledged at all except for Shinsou’s wary gaze, but he ended up winning a nod!

“Oh, I’m also fluent in sign language, if you’ve ever wanted to learn that! It’s pretty useful, and a lot of fun!” Yamada says, signing the entire time.

Eri’s eyes brighten, but before she can answer for him, he sees Shinsou sign-whisper ‘ danger' in small and practiced movements.

Shouta was right. They did know JSL, Shinsou probably more fluently than Eri, but that was meant to be kept a secret. A way of communicating when someone else was in the room. A way to keep Eri from doing something that could get her hurt.

Eri stops immediately, and doesn’t even pout. She just looks at the pad of paper with a tiny frown, far more obedient than a 5 year old should be.

Shinsou glances at him, and tries to make it seem casual by looking at the door right after. Yamada keeps his wide smile, trying not to let him know that he saw.

Shinsou could keep his secrets until Yamada proved himself trustworthy.

“You know, the thing I like about sign language is getting to make up your own names for people,” Yamada says, rambling. 

He’s not sure if it’s a good topic, wincing when he remembers that according to Naomasa, Shinsou had been called things like ‘Dog’ and ‘27’ for so long that he hardly responded to his own name. But, he can’t quite backtrack now that the words have flung themselves out of his mouth.

“It would get pretty tiring to spell out every letter of someone’s name, especially something like 'Toshinori’ or ‘Tamajiki,’ so once you get to know someone, you can take a sign that kind of fits them and twist it around, usually with a few letters from their name thrown in.” Yamada idly signs ‘ lavender ’ with ‘ Sou ’ thrown in the middle, but it doesn’t quite feel right.

Shinsou notices though, eyes locked on his hands, widening a bit when he recognizes the words. He was a bit more advanced than Yamada thought.

"I haven't figured out a name for Eri though. I was thinking something like 'E' and then 'beansprout,' but what if it doesn't fit when she gets older? It's the same with 'kitten,' but something like 'white' or 'cute' isn't unique enough. It isn't Eri enough, you know?" The name signs still feel too awkward in his hands as he spells them, frowning to himself.

"What about this?" Eri asks, her fingers in a V-shape above her head, imitating the protagonist of an anime that Izuku had marathoned with her a few days ago.

Yamada feels tears well up in his eyes, not because it's a fragment of so many different signs that the name would be technically meaningless, but because Eri asked him a question .

She had never done that. She always danced around him nervously, asking Aizawa what Yamada was doing or why Yamada’s hair looked like that or if Yamada could teach her how to braid. He was waiting for the day, and here it was, right in front of him, in this very moment.

"That's perfect, Eri! It's so cute and fitting and just like you!" Yamada says, desperately trying not to squeal. He swears his quirk wants to act up at the worst times, but he manages to keep it under control.

It still might be a bit much, as Eri shrinks closer to Shinsou with a blush rising up to her ears, but Shinsou pets her head, hiding his own smile behind her hair.

Maybe Yamada had proven just a little bit how much he cared for Eri. That was the real key to earning Shinsou's trust. If Eri trusted them, then slowly but surely, Shinsou would as well.


	3. Chapter 3

Shinsou still doesn’t seem to believe it when they arrive the next day, panic swelling in his eyes as Eri pulls out a couple of outfits from the shopping bag they had brought for him to choose from. He doesn’t touch a single thing, even as Eri tries to make him feel how soft the lavender turtleneck is, or how nice the sweatshirt with a cat playing in a bowl of ramen smelled.

Smell, it turned out, was a big priority for Eri, as she shyly admitted that she liked how her new clothes didn’t smell bad or hurt her nose. Even if Hizashi turned a few heads, pressing his nose against every shirt or scarf before throwing it in the shopping cart, he couldn’t be bothered to care. It was important.

Shinsou’s eyes kept wandering to an oversized hoodie with a purple and black galaxy design behind a giant cat playing bongos with smaller cats’ heads. It had been a slightly risky choice, as Hizashi wasn’t sure Shinsou would be comfortable wearing something so ‘out there,’ but it seemed like the kid had a surprising fashion sense.

Shinsou ends up walking out of the bathroom wearing Eri’s favorite, the soft turtleneck, and a pair of cool gray jeans. Shouta shoots him a quick Take note of that look, but Hizashi isn’t sure if his concern is about deferring to Eri’s choice rather than making his own, or the way Shinsou keeps picking at the collar like he wants to pull it over his face.

As soon as the bullpen comes into sight, busy as ever with police officers and heroes coming off of patrol, Shinsou’s anxiety becomes palpable. His shoulders rise up to his ears, and his eyes move around at first in panic, then much more focused. His mouth becomes a firm line, scanning the room for danger in a practiced manner, and he moves from beside Eri to slightly behind her, hunching over a bit. Protecting her from the left and the rear.

Yamada digs out a dark brown leather jacket that he knew was a size too big, and offers it to Shinsou. There were bigger and softer ‘comfort jackets’ at home that he forgot to bring, but this was the best choice for now.

Shinsou puts it on at his insistence, but keeps himself hunched over Eri, his hands shaking more with every second they’re stopped.

Luckily, Naomasa keeps his farewell brief, waving cheerfully to Eri when he wishes them a safe trip home.

Shinsou seems to shrink when he jumps into the backseat and closes his car door, but the tension leaving him all at once while he busies himself helping Eri buckle up. The drive home is filled with Eri excitedly telling him all about the remodeled dorm room, how all the rooms got bigger while they were away at school and now they had a room just for Twenny.

Shinsou doesn’t speak, not that Eri gives him much opportunity to. Sometimes he’ll glance out the window, but he quickly flinches back, as though he’s afraid of seeing how big the world is, now that he’s free from the cramped spaces he must have been living in for years on end.

Yamada hopes that’s not a persistent fear. He knows that UA will feel enormous at first, but over time it should start to feel less intimidating.

They’re lucky that the campus seems to be deserted when they arrive, all the students and teachers preparing for the midterm exams that will be closing in on them in a few short weeks. Even Toshinori, who is usually enjoying the cool autumn air on a bench outside, is absent, though Yamada thinks that might be due to the talk Shouta had with him in the staff room earlier that day.

Shinsou looks ready to pass out when they finally make it to the dorm room. His eyes still scan the room, but his eyelids seem to be getting heavier. Eri does her best to distract him by giving him the grand tour as Yamada and Shouta let her take control.

“This is the couch where we sit down and read books. It’s really comfy because it’s old!” Eri says, patting the worn-down cushions. The small couch makes the newly expanded living room feel barren, and Yamada reminds himself to be on the lookout for furniture sales in the near future. The couch should have been thrown out years ago, and the impending redecoration seems like a great excuse to do so, but Shouta insists that it’s the perfect size for him to collapse on after an eventful patrol. “And that’s a TV! It can show you pictures that move really fast, like it’s happening in real life! Did you know that they can do that, Twenny?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou says, finally speaking as he manages a tired smile. “I used to have a TV when I was little.”

Shinsou seems too tired to realize it, but that was the first time he had ever talked about his life before the 8 Precepts, according to Naomasa. It certainly wouldn’t crack the case against the human traffickers who had taken him away, but it was surprising nonetheless. Promising.

Yamada brushes his hand across Shouta’s shoulders, tapping him in as the supervisor while he headed to the kitchen to start making dinner. Hopefully Shinsou would be conscious enough to eat something hardier than gummy snacks and protein jellies, which was the only thing he’d eaten in four days.

He was making the first real meal Shinsou would eat after a month of being force fed.

Yamada knows he can’t hold it against Naomasa. They couldn’t exactly let him starve to death in police custody, but the anger shakes him deeply nonetheless. The kid should have been safe after the raid. He shouldn’t have had to go through that.

The Grand Dorm Tour only stops by the kitchen for a second before Eri grabs Shinsou’s hand and leads him down the hallway, her voice announcing the bathroom - Zawa and Yama’s bathroom , Eri is much too proud saying. Zawa and Yama’s office is announced and the door is quickly shut, since it’s so boring and stuffy. Their bedroom and the laundry room is similarly introduced and promptly dismissed, because they’re coming closer to the best parts. 

They turn the corner of the hallway, crossing the boundary where the dorm had once split in two, and Eri is very proud to show off her room. Yamada really wishes he was there, to see Shinsou’s reaction. He wanted to know if he approved, if he thought the nest of blankets on her bed kept her warm enough, if the gigantic mountain of stuffed animals that Mirio kept shamelessly adding to were cute enough. Shouta would surely tell him, but he wanted to see it so badly.

“And this is our bathroom! There are so many soaps for us! This one even smells like the one you got for me, and it’s my favorite!”

It had taken literally two hours for Eri to find a soap she liked the first time they went shopping together, but once she picked up the warm sugar scented body wash, she refused to put it down. He’d even seen her run to the bathroom just to smell it from time to time, something that was a mystery until Shouta got Shinsou’s file. 

Shouta had stayed up all night reading it, and even snuck out to check the items still held in evidence at the station, thumbing through the ear-marked sections of a book titled Big Quirks and Little People: How to Manage Quirk-Troubled Children. The section suggesting aromatherapy had ‘ soap ’ scribbled in the margin, written in crayon with an unsteady hand.

“And this is your room, Twenny! Zawa said you needed your own space, but it’s okay if you want to share mine. I promise it’s a lot better than the room we had before!”

Yamada’s eyebrows raise as he listens to Eri’s manipulative little words. To say she had been unhappy after Shouta told her that Shinsou would be sleeping in his own bed was an understatement. She pouted for hours and refused to help put the bedding together or sort away any of the little odds and ends she had so carefully selected, finally exploding into a fit when she collapsed face-down on the floor and kicked her feet in a violent flurry.

But as soon as it started, it ended, and she curled up into a little ball, shaking as she looked around, waiting for someone to be mad at her. For something awful to happen. Shouta muttered soft words of ‘ it’s okay, Eri ’ and ‘ we’re not mad ’ over and over before she risked getting up, still shaking as she apologized. After a big family hug and a nap, she was back to being his favorite little helper, but Yamada was still a little shaken by how scared she was after her first tantrum with them.

“Twenny, are you okay?”

Yamada puts the knife back down on the cutting board, arguing with himself. He knows he shouldn’t go in there and crowd Shinsou if he’s having a spell. He knows that Shouta can handle it.

“Twenny, is the cat scarin-”

“Sorry,” Shinsou blurts, and there’s a long pause where he knows the kid is trying to hide the panic that had gotten to him. “T-the cat is really cute, Eri. I like it.”

The kid sounds absolutely shaken, but he knows Shouta won’t bring it up. They need to wait until Shinsou is adjusted. They need to let him get comfortable, build up any sort of trust they can, and in the meantime, use anything that slips out to start putting together the puzzle.

Shinsou liked cats, or at least wearing things with cats on them, but the fluffy gray stuffie that Eri picked out for him touched on something painful. Did he like pictures of cats but was scared of cats themselves? Was it just gray cats? Did he once have a cat that looked similar to the stuffie?

“Yama got you a lot of books, Twenny,” Eri says, her previous enthusiasm gone, but he can tell from the way her voice is a little muffled that she’s curled up against someone’s shoulder. He’s willing to bet it’s Shinsou’s. “They have white pages like mine, and they don’t smell weird either. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s really great, Eri,” Shinsou answers, laughing under his breath. “Your books were really cheap at the store I used to go to… Mine were too, but that was because they were really old. I like having books like these.”

Even with everything he had been going through, Shinsou had made sure to steal discounted books. Jean Valjean, eat your heart out.

"Hizashi should be finishing up soon, but I know he'll need help picking out which plates to use," Shouta says, so quietly Yamada's hearing aids can barely make out his words.

"OH NO! There's so many colors and sizes and I don't know which ones to pick!" Yamada cries, opening and closing the cabinet doors for effect. "If only my favorite little helper were here!"

"Twenny, I've got to help Yama make dinner, but I'll be right back!" Eri promises, her footsteps thundering down the hall at a quick step.

Shouta enters after Hizashi lifts Eri onto the countertop so she can start planning who gets to eat off of what. It's a very serious business, especially now that she's picking for Twenny. 

The look on Shouta's face tells him the talk with Shinsou went as expected. Shouta had assured the kid that everything in the house was available to him, and if he needed anything, anything at all, he could write a note or let Eri know, as she'd be sure to make sure he's taken care of. 

That the campus housed 20 pro heroes in their very building, 160 heroes in training, and one of the most sophisticated security systems in Japan.

That he would be safe here, even if it didn't feel like it at first.

And Shinsou wasn't likely to react much to those words. Probably wouldn't believe them. But Shouta didn't have that guilty heaviness in his shoulders that he would have if Shinsou had been overwhelmed with panic from Shouta's presence and Eri's absence.

It was a good sign.


	4. Chapter 4

Aizawa was dead tired by the time he was able to leave work. Covering Hizashi's classes cut deeply into his designated nap times, and several members of class 1-A seemed to be under the impression that Present Mic's absence would excuse them from the class entirely. Kaminari's panic in particular when he hunted them down made the effort almost worthwhile.

Yamada warned him to be quiet when he returned with a picture of Eri tucking a unicorn under Shinsou's arm while he slept, curled up in a corner of the couch with his hair covered in white gel. He saved the picture to the Eri folder without thinking too much about it, then scrolled through the other updates he had been sent throughout the day.

Hizashi sent him a selfie where the man was huddled up in their bed, blonde hair spread messily over the pillow with a caption - 'So nice to sleep in :).' Another selfie after Hizashi had gotten dressed, wearing a soft gray henley with his hair braided to the side, his fingers in a peace sign - 'Stay at home mom look :p .' A blurry picture of Eri opening the door to Shinsou's room, dragging her Hello Kitty blanket behind her - 'She didn't even check on me! Too busy BEING NAUGHTY.' A picture of Shinsou, still wearing the clothes from yesterday, and Eri curled up on the same bed, Eri's head resting on Shinsou's arm. Shinsou's face, relaxed in sleep, makes him look younger, and the scars even more painful to look at. 'Shinsou caught me and got a liiiiitle panicked, but nbd! Eating lunch now! DON'T JUST EAT JELLIES SHOU.'

Another text pops up while he's walking, and he stops to wait for the picture to load.

Shinsou is smiling nervously, his purple hair, now shorter and healthier, fluffed up in every direction. His toothy not-quite-grin matches Eri's heartfelt attempt at one. They both hold up peace signs, with cat ears and whiskers drawn on both of their faces. 'Had a nightmare I think, but Eri wanted to show him the cat filter! He likes it!'

Aizawa stops and smiles before he catches himself, a moment too late. "Ah! Sensei got an Eri picture! I wanna see! I wanna see!"

He looks up to see UA's Big Three walking towards him, Nejire barely restrained by Togata's hand on her shoulder, though he knows Togata will ask to see it too, just more politely. Even Amajiki's eyes are widened with interest, peering over from behind Togata's shoulder.

Aizawa sighs, unsure whether he should swipe to an older picture or tell them about Shinsou now. "You've only gone one day without seeing her. I'm beginning to worry that she's become a distraction for the students of UA." Or an addiction, if their stricken faces are any indication.

"Too long!" Nejire pouts, crossing her arms petulantly.

"We're just worried, Sensei!" Togata says, rubbing the top of Nejire's head in calming circles. "Did she come down with a cold?"

"No," Aizawa answers, then turns to face them. "This information is only known to the staff for now, but as nearly-fledged heroes entrusted with her care, I will trust you to act appropriately with it." He turns his phone to the Big Three, knowing full well the emotional whiplash they will have upon seeing the picture.

Nejire cracks first. "Cute! Who is he? Is he Eri's brother? They look so similar! Why does he have sc-"

Togata places a hand over her mouth, his smile unwavering. "That must be the famous Twenny! I'm glad he's doing better, but I can't help but ask what his situation is now."

Still sharp as ever. "He is under Present Mic’s care, in a traditional wardship designation," Aizawa answers.

"Despite the fact that Eri is your ward," Togata states, while Nejire vibrates in his grasp.

"He has information that could be critical in another investigation," Aizawa states, knowing that out of anyone, he could trust Togata to understand. "Due to… a number of factors, he will be living with Eri for the foreseeable future. The arrangement is beneficial for both of them."

"An emotional support toddler," Amajiki mutters, before he notices Aizawa's stare and presses his head against Togata's back. "What I mean to say is-"

"That is the situation," Aizawa interjects, musing to himself how accurate the term was. "Eri acts more confidently in his presence, and Shinsou is reassured by hers."

" 'Shinsou,' huh," Togata wonders aloud.

"Shinsou Hitoshi," Aizawa replies. " 'Twenny' is short for '27.' It was a name he was called before he came to the 8 Precepts."

Togata's smile falters into a grimace, and Aizawa wonders if he said too much. But Togata's chin lifts, as does his mood, as he asks, "Can I meet him tomorrow? I can watch them so Mic-sensei doesn't have to miss another day."

"You have class," Aizawa states, eyes narrowing.

"Quirk training," Togata says with a laugh. "Ecto-sensei already gave me permission, as long as it's alright with you. If I can't improve that area, I should work on others, like providing comfort for victims of trauma!"

Aizawa knows that's not why Ectoplasm signed off on it, but he sighs and agrees anyway. "Toshinori will also be there."

"A team up with All Might! How lucky!" Togata exclaims, removing his hand from Nejire's mouth to clap his hands together in excitement.

The other members of the Big Three notice, eyes lowering. 

Those were bitter words hidden under all that cheer.

Aizawa trusts them to handle it, departing with a wave as he continued his walk home.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a really good day," Yamada says, offering a cup of tea to his husband. 

The exhausted eye roll told him this had just been par for the course. 

"He didn't ask her a question," Yamada pries, and hopes Eri, as upset as she had been, had offered some insight while Shouta calmed her down.

"He stopped requiring it last year, for her at least," Shouta answers, turning the cup in his hands. "He had used his quirk on her so much by that point…. It must be a side effect of repeated use, but that's far better than the usual one."

Yamada frowns, unsettled by the reminder. Most people affected by the overuse of mental quirks simply went insane. 

"He still asked her," Shouta says, glaring at his tea while his shoulders stiffened. "Every time he had to take control of her, he asked her a question. He only slipped up once, and even she noticed how much it distressed him."

"If that was any indication," Yamada says, head tilting towards the living room. "It would be pretty hard not to. Even for a child."

"He can use her quirk," Shouta mutters, frown deepening. "This situation has become a lot more dangerous."

He knows Shouta is just stating the facts, taking inventory of everything that had changed in those scant few minutes, but he bristles at his words. It wasn't logical to dismiss everything that had come to light, but Shouta had only seen the worst parts of the day.

The kid had relaxed . He had smiled, widely and without fear behind his eyes. He played games with Eri, and even as ridiculous as he looked, a teenager being bossed around by a toddler less than half his size, he had been happy .

"He might do it, if he's pushed enough. But anyone would react against their nature if they're pushed enough." Yamada looks towards the hallway, the direction they really should be heading to so they could take better stock of the situation. "He clearly didn't want to."

Shouta nods, taking a sip of tea. "I think it would be better if it was just you, but considering…"

Yamada raises an eyebrow, earning an exasperated sigh.

"Zashi, the kid is terrified of me. You saw the way he reacted when I came home. That's not just a startle response. Considering the way he has lived, what he expects..." Shouta glares at his tea cup, but they both know the people he was really angry at. "He thinks I'm the new Chisaki. "

"Shou," Yamada says softly, draping an arm over his husband's shoulders. "Eri thought the same thing too. It took over a week for her to trust you, and even then, it was probably because you were taking 'Twenny's' place in her life."

Shouta's shoulders relax, and he leans closer to Yamada.

"It will be really hard, Shou. I don't think Shinsou remembers what a caretaker acts like, if he ever had one. He might have only known Chisaki’s, but..." Yamada stops, running his fingers through the ends of Shouta's hair. "He will recognize that you're different . It just takes time to prove it."

Shouta doesn't answer, but the tilt of his head means he's considering his words. Trying to make a plan of action, how to move forward with their theory in mind.

"So, what does that make me?" Yamada asks, finger pressed under his chin. "Sometimes he startles, but he's also way more relaxed than I really expected."

"Obviously, you're my lackey," Shouta says, with a cheeky grin. "Or maybe you pull off the 'Stay at Home Mom' look better than you think."

Yamada sputters. "Shou! I thought we went over this! If I were a villain, I'd be independant like Gentle and La Brava, but with better editing and way more followers."

"I'd follow you," Shouta mutters, tucking his head under Yamada's chin. "But to hunt you down, and bring you to justice."

"You're such a stickler for police procedure," Yamada says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I mean, you'd have to frisk me. Really thoroughly. Never know what I could be hidi-"

The sound of a door opening makes them freeze, listening for the sound of Eri's quiet sniffles. Instead, the door shuts, almost soundlessly.

They wait a minute, listening for footsteps, but there's only silence.

"It sounded like Shinsou's room," Shouta whispers, pulling away from their embrace.

They walk down the hall to investigate, as quietly as they could so as not to startle either of their wards. The hallway was empty except for a piece of paper, folded neatly in front of Shinsou's door.

Shouta picks it up, eyes scanning over the message. His fingers crumple the edges when he finishes, before he shows it to Yamada.

'If you want me to control her, you might as well kill me. I will bite my tongue off first.' 

It was written with a steadier hand than the note Yamada had received before the shopping trip, possibly because Shinsou had a great deal more time to write it.

' Sign to talk?' Shouta asks after tucking the note into his pocket.

' Unsure of dialect. Might be PSJ. Not my best language.' Yamada replies with a frown. With the two signs he’s seen from Shinsou, it was hard to tell, but he hoped that it was standard JSL. That would be far easier to teach.

Shouta raises an eyebrow. ‘ Your mom uses PSJ.’

‘Too loose. Signs can mean different things,’ Yamada answers. ‘ This is too important.’

Shouta nods. ‘ Laptop. ’

They retrieve the laptop from their office and return to Shinsou’s door. Hizashi hesitates while Shouta knocks, waits a moment for a response that’s unlikely to come, then enters.

The kid is stock still when he sees them, his hands shaking a little where they hang stiffly at his sides. He’s standing in front of his bed, though he was clearly sitting on it before due to how the comforter had an imprint. Everything else in the room looks exactly as it was before Shinsou even arrived.

“We need to talk,” Shouta says, barely looking at the kid while he starts setting up the laptop on the desk. “I want you to use this to type out what you want to say.”

The kid doesn’t move, but his eyes are fixed on Shouta, only glancing at Yamada a few times. Shouta was right, the kid was terrified of him.

Shouta notices, hand curling into a fist momentarily, before he remembers himself and relaxes. “Sit down in this chair.”

Shinsou moves without hesitation. Familiar with following orders.

“Have you used a keyboard before?” Shouta asks, and though his even tone disguises it, he’s worried that this won’t work either and they’ll be forced to use paper, which could distress Shinsou further.

‘Yes.’ Shinsou types. His hands rest on the keyboard, typing rather than finger-picking. That was a promising sign, a sign that this would be a better way to communicate from here on out.

“We received your note,” Shouta says, pulling it from his pocket to place it on the desk. The kid glances at it, shaking, before he turns his gaze back to the screen. “I’m glad that you wrote it. That’s exactly what I want you to do when you feel uncomfortable with something. Let us know, and we will change it.”

Shinsou’s eyebrows move together for a moment, confused, before he schools himself back into the eerie blank look he wore when they first entered.

“We don’t want you to control Eri. I know that was your role at the 8 Precepts, but...” Shouta pauses, considering his words. “The only time you should ever use your quirk on her is if she loses control of hers, and I’m not there to stop it. Is that understood?”

‘Yes.’ Shinsou’s fingers twitch over the keys after he’s done, but he doesn’t type anything else.

“I’m not sure if you remember Togata, but he remembers meeting you briefly during the raid. He is an extraordinary young man who cares deeply for Eri. He wouldn’t want her or you to suffer any kind of discomfort, even to regain his quirk.”

Shinsou’s fingers twitch again, and he glances at Yamada first, then to Shouta, who nods.

‘Does he-’ Shinsou erases, then types again. ‘Blonde hair, red cape?’ He deletes the question mark as soon as he types it, shrinking in on himself.

Trained not to ask questions. Not even written ones.

“He has blonde hair, but he usually wears T-shirts and jeans when he isn’t in uniform,” Shouta answers. “I imagine he will wear something of that nature tomorrow when he visits.”

Shinsou glances at Shouta, still avoiding his eyes, before he turns back to the keyboard. ‘Not’ then erases, repeating the action a few times. ‘Not angry’ finally comes out, no punctuation attempted.

“I’m not angry, Shinsou,” Shouta says, as softly as he can. “There are very few things you could do that would make me angry, and I don’t think you would ever do them. I wouldn’t be angry if you asked me a question, or if you were having fun with Eri. Even if you did make me angry, we would sit down and talk about it.”

Shinsou doesn’t relax much. He probably doesn’t believe half of what Shouta is saying, but the half he does believe makes a difference. It takes a while, his lips thinning while he thinks, then he types, ‘Is Eri okay.’

Still no question mark, but it’s a start. “She calmed down a while ago, but I think she’s worried that she upset you,” Shouta answers. “She told me that you always asked her a question at the 8 Precepts, even after you found out you didn’t have to.”

Shinsou notices the pause, the unasked question, frowning before he answers. ‘She needed the routine, and as much control as I could give her. I didn’t want-’ he erases, tapping the key while he thinks. ‘I don’t like-’ erases. ‘It’s easy to slip up now. I won’t let it happen again.’

Shouta looks at Yamada, and he knows what he wants to do. He knows it’s risky, but it might be the most effective solution right now.

Yamada nods, and Shouta breathes a sigh of relief, turning back to Shinsou. “Shinsou, I’m going to demonstrate my Nullification quirk on Hizashi.”

Shinsou’s eyes go wide with panic, and Yamada quickly realizes that this might be a bad idea.

“It won't hurt me! Shouta’s done it before, a lot, actually,” Yamada says, drawing Shinsou’s gaze to him, his expression shifting from panic to pleading concern. “I have a Voice Amplification quirk, so when I use it, I get really loud. And I’m going to use it now, but you should also look at Shouta while I’m using it. BECAUSE HIS HAIR STARTS TO FLoat and his eyes turn red.”

Shouta’s hair settles back around his shoulders and he blinks hard, trying to get moisture back onto his irises. “My quirk neutralizes the quirk factor of anyone I use it on while I’m looking at them. It isn’t painful for the target.”

“It does feel a little weird, though,” Yamada says, and Shinsou looks back at him with a more muted concern. “It’s like… I’m trying to walk but my foot’s asleep, but with my voice. That’s a weird way to put it, but…”

“If you slip,” Shouta says, and Shinsou’s shoulders jerk when he does. “And you can’t break the control yourself, I can use my quirk. It won’t hurt you, but it will break the control you have over someone, and allow you to regain control of the situation.”

Shinsou looks at Shouta, his expression blank, but for once, that’s a good sign. 

“Maybe we could have told you all of that first, instead of making you worry so much,” Yamada says, elbowing Shouta’s arm playfully. “But Shouta secretly has a little complex about how he looks when he uses it.”

“It’s not a complex,” Shouta grouses. “I’m simply aware that seeing someone with glowing red eyes and levitating hair can be startling. In certain cases, it can work to my favor, but in others, it requires awareness .”

Yamada smiles, remembering how timid Shouta had been to show his quirk to Eri, since he had been too far away for her to have seen it during the raid. When his hair settled down, he could barely look her in the eye, softly asking, ‘ Did that scare you? ’ Eri had shaken her head, hand reaching out for his hair, though she jerked it back as soon as she realized it. ‘ Your hair...looks pretty. ’

Shouta had nearly died on the spot.

“So,” Yamada starts, and though Shouta sends him a wary look, he’s a little too excited to hold back. “I really like the computer set up, but it’s a little cumbersome to carry around all the time. I noticed you used sign and- and I’m not angry!” He blurts, hands waving as Shinsou’s eyes become panicked again. “I’m excited, actually! I think it would be a good way to communicate if it was an emergency, or if we didn’t have the laptop nearby. Or any paper.”

Shouta’s glare fades. He didn’t want to give away that they know the handwriting situation is no longer the best avenue. Shouta must have noticed something that he didn’t.

Shinsou looks down, chewing his lip nervously. ‘ Sorry.’ He pauses, hands shaking. ‘Not great. Want to learn. Not hiding. Dislike .’ His eyes glance around, fingers tapping on the chair.

“Dislike to sign?” Yamada asks, signing as he does.

Shinsou signs an emphatic ‘ No’ then turns back to the laptop. ‘Don’t want to offend.’

“Ah! I see! That’s this sign,” Yamada says, demonstrating it in slow movements. Shinsou copies him without prompting, his fingers out of place the first time, but he frowns and repeats it better the next. “And I wouldn’t be offended if you missigned, Shinsou. You’re learning. I would be a horrible teacher if I was upset you didn’t immediately know every sign, especially for JSL! It’s a very messy language, you know, kind of like English. Some signs mean different things in different areas, some signs are just made up to be shared between two people. A lot of signs were just made up when someone meant to say something, but found there wasn’t a sign for it!”

‘ Names similar,’ Shinsou notes.

“Very true! And Shouta - oh, this is my name sign for Shouta,” Yamada says, ‘ Sho Sleep.’ “Shouta knows JSL as well! I taught him myself, in fact, so he can tell you what a wonderful teacher I am.”

‘ He rambles,’ Shouta signs. “Hizashi is a very patient teacher. And very knowledgeable.”

‘ You’re rude! Don’t teach him that!’ “So you can ask me to show you how to sign anything, Shinsou! Maybe we can even find some signs that need to be made,” Yamada says. “I still haven’t found your name sign, but if you have any ideas for me or Eri or Shou- or anyone! - I can help!”

‘Thank you,’ Shinsou signs, using the most formal one. ‘ Will learn.’ The corner of his lips pull into a small smile, and he sign-whispers, ‘ Excited. ’

Yamada beams, warmth filling his chest. Shinsou was excited to learn, willing to sign to them. He was nearly overcome with the urge to teach him as many signs as he could think of, when the door slowly opened, and Eri’s head popped in.

Her face was still red, eyes puffy from crying, but her nervous expression broke when she saw Shinsou, and she started to cry again, running to bury her face in his stomach. “ ‘M sorry Twenny!”

Shinsou pulled her into his arms, hand rubbing circles against her back, worry working into his voice. “No, no, I’m sorry Eri. I’m sorry I scared you, I’m really sorry.”

Eri cries harder, kneeing him in the side as she jerks in frustration. “Don’t-don’t-don’t go-o away-ay Twenny! I-I’ll be go-ood so do-on’t!” Eri sobs, unable to speak under the pressure of her terror.

This is a bad fit, one that even Shouta would need an hour to calm her down from, but Shinsou stands up, and begins walking in slow circles, humming so quietly that Yamada’s hearing aids can barely pick up the sound. Even that much turns her breathless cries to peaks and waves, and Yamada is impressed to see it.

Shinsou just keeps humming, walking her in circles until she calms down completely, still grasping onto him as though if she relaxes a single finger, he’d disappear in her arms.

“Bad nightmare,” Shinsou mutters, avoiding any hint of questioning in his tone.

Eri nods, squeezing him even tighter. “I was bad in the room. I talked to him and told him he was mean, and you got mad. And you left, like you were going to get books, but you didn’t…” She squirms, kicking a leg against his side. “You didn’t come back. And he told me that I was bad. I was cursed so you left. So you could be happy. But his voice was.... Was your voice. Like back then. And he started to look like you. And it scared me.”

Shinsou holds her tighter, pain naked on his face. “Those… are really scary dreams. When someone changes…. I think it helps if you look at them, look at the person who changes in that dream. Here,” Shinsou says, guiding her to let go, pull away from where she was tucked so firmly into his shoulder. “You can look at me, and remember what I look like.”

Eri traces his scars, then reaches up and tugs at a lock of his hair. She shakes her head, then looks at Shouta.

The world tilts from under him when Yamada realizes that Eri only looks . 

She doesn’t seek any assurances or affection. She wants to remind herself what Shouta looks like . That he isn’t a part of whatever monstrous amalgamation of Chisaki and Shinsou that had haunted her dreams earlier, taking pieces of those she cherished and mutating them with the person she feared most.

Shouta stiffens when he realizes it, and walks over to them slowly. “Eri,” he says, when he gets close enough, and that’s all he has to say. Her tiny hands tremble when they reach for him, but she touches his jaw, fingers running over the scruff. It starts to distract her, and she giggles weakly.

“Feels funny,” Eri whispers, then lays her head back on Shinsou’s shoulder, exhausted from the fit now that she’s fully comforted.

“He looks funny when he shaves, though!” Yamada cuts in, noticing the increasing tension in Shinsou’s shoulders as the kid notices how close Shouta is. “His cheeks are so soft, and he doesn’t look as scary when he glares. I think that’s why he doesn’t shave. It keeps the students in line, thinking he’s a wild man with nothing to lose. Not even a razor!”

Eri giggles, turning her face towards Shinsou’s chest. “Don’t leave Twenny,” she whispers, fingers twisting in his shirt.

“I won’t,” Shinsou says, running a hand over her back, then smiles. “I can’t, really. There’s a scary, crazy wild ma….” He stops and freezes, but Yamada won’t let the panic take over.

“He sassed!” Yamada cries, working every bit of excitement he can manage into his tone. “He sassed you! Finally! The sign of a healthy teenager!” He forces an exaggerated laugh, slapping his knee as he realizes Shinsou still didn’t appear to be breathing. “Shinsou has a great sense of humor, right, Shou?”

“You two,” Shouta says, a bit too gravely for his taste. “Are the only ones who can sass me. Hizashi isn’t allowed to.”

Eri perks up at that, head tilting to the side. “How do you sass someone?”

“You just mutter something under your breath about them, usually,” Hizashi explains. “Like, ‘Would be nice if Shouta learned to cook for himself,’ or ‘I sure was cold last night after someone stole the blankets.’ ”

Eri purses her lips, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Then she looks at Shouta with determination. “I wish Zawa would let Mirio live with us!”

Shouta smiles and ruffles her hair. “I spend too much time around teenagers already.”

“That was a good first sass, though! I’m sure that being surrounded by teenagers all the time will make you a sass-master in no time!” Yamada says, knowing that it’s one of Shouta’s greatest fears.

Shouta’s glare promised retribution, but Yamada was on cloud nine for the rest of the night.

Shinsou sassed!


	6. Chapter 6

Shou-chan, my sweet, loving husband,” Hizashi croons, as Shouta refuses to open his eyes. When he makes the effort, he sees that Hizashi hasn’t even put on his jacket, and his hair has only been backcombed and hair-sprayed, creating the form but not the hold that gel would provide.

“Too early,” Shouta grumbles. He knows he doesn’t need to wake up until Hizashi has finished his hair at least.

“Shou-chan, why is there a scorch mark in my sink?” Hizashi coos, his sweet tone attempting to hide the vengeance soon to come. “I thought we agreed that if I’m not there to supervise, you should stay away from the stove.”

Shouta grunts. It’s far too early for this. “Shinsou had a bad idea. Stopped him. Luckily.”

“What?! What bad idea?! Shouta, don’t fall asleep on me!” Hizashi pulls him up by his shoulders, unconcerned by Shouta’s glare.

“Handled it. Tell you at school. Coffee ,” Shouta groaned, slumping forward against Hizashi’s hold. He could probably fall back asleep like this. “Signed at me. Good.”

“Shouta! You can’t just tell me he signed at you - he signed to you - and fall - ugh!” Hizashi gave up, allowing his husband to fall sideways onto the bed, already asleep. “If you weren’t so cute when you sleep…”

*

Aizawa disregarded the intense burning behind Hizashi’s green eyes, taking the offered cup of coffee. It was his super dark blend, so strong that it had been banned in 4 countries. His favorite.

After he drinks half of it, he manages to look around the dinner table to check on his wards. Eri was nearly bouncing in her seat as she wolfed down her breakfast, still caught up in the excitement of Togata’s visit. It was unusual for her to be so energetic, especially this early in the morning, but Shinsou’s effect on her appeared to be a strong one.

Shinsou appeared to be in the same boat as he was, but without the aid of caffeine. His head was propped up by his hand, as he slowly chewed a piece of toast, smeared hap-hazardly with jam. Prepared by Eri, no doubt.

He was still eating with his left hand.

Aizawa could tell he wasn’t practiced with it. There was a slight hesitation when he picked up a piece of food or cutlery, and the movements afterwards were clumsy. He also noticed a subtle clench in Shinsou’s jaw when he made a fist with his right, something approaching a habit when he felt he had done something he wasn’t supposed to.

Perhaps more things didn’t come out right after he had been unfused from Chisaki.

Shinsou felt the need to hide it, and to a point, Aizawa would let him. Taking away all of his secrets now would leave him too vulnerable, leave him in the exact kind of position that the people who had abused him before created. In the short term, he would cleave onto them more, obey every word they said and each one they didn’t. They may even be able to close the investigation faster. But in the long term, he might never recover.

Darkly, he wonders if Naomasa knew that. If, at certain points, the urgency of finding out how and where Nomus were being produced allowed him to overlook something he shouldn’t have.

Aizawa shouldn’t throw stones, he thinks with a grimace. He had been convinced to look away himself.

His phone buzzes with an incoming text, and though he fumbles with it a minute, hands still uncoordinated with the lack of sleep and coffee, he sees that Toshinori had texted him instead of knocking, as he requested.

He chugs the rest of his coffee, then heads to the door, closing it quickly behind him since Toshinori had decided to stand right in the doorway, not fully comprehending the need for the text message.

This would be the first time that Shinsou would be left with someone other than Hizashi and himself, and there was no room for error in the introduction. Especially after last night.

Togata was standing next to the wall, like Toshinori should have. Aizawa tampers down the urge to pat the overgrown teen's head, rising out of habit from spending too much time with Eri.

"Thank you both for agreeing to come here today. Naomasa already told you everything, right?" Aizawa asks Toshinori, earning a bloody sputter from the man.

"I- well, yes. Since it's connec-"

"Togata doesn't know,” Aizawa interrupts, glancing at the teenager in question. "And he shouldn't be read into it. I'm going to report my findings so far to Naomasa today, but I trust that you won't do any digging of your own, Toshinori."

Toshinori frowns. "I wouldn't attempt it. I know very well that I don't have the proper training for that, or talent, as teaching has shown me. Did Naomasa give you the impression that I would?"

Aizawa realizes how hard he had been glaring, and forces himself to relax. Last night had rattled him a bit too much. The instinct to protect was a requirement to be a hero, but he let it affect him in a way that wasn't becoming to that title. He had given enough lectures on the subject to know better. "I haven't been given official clearance to discuss it with you, so we'll leave it at that. Do you both remember what I've told you about the situation so far?"

Togata nods, then begins rattling off the instructions he had been texted yesterday. "Call you if there's an emergency, Nemuri-sensei if you don't answer, Principal Nezu if she doesn't. Eri's quirk doesn't have a specified trigger, but the size of her horn is a precursor. Call if there's a noticeable increase in size. Shinsou's quirk is Brainwashing, if you answer a question he asks, he can take control of you, but he seems to be unable to speak to anyone but Eri, and based on your observations, unlikely to use his quirk on her."

"There were a few new developments,”Aizawa says, as Togata pauses to take a breath. "Shinsou doesn't need Eri to answer for his quirk to activate, but the reluctance is still there. It's highly unlikely, but in the event that he becomes hostile and takes control of her, you should evacuate. He can use the quirk of the person that is under his control. Likely originating from that person's body, but it hasn't been observed."

"Was it a quirk slip?" Togata asks, but his eyes are hard with suspicion. The teen knows that's the likely answer, but due to his protectiveness for Eri, he's set on edge by doubt.

"It was. If it happens again, call me immediately, and keep watch over him, as an S-1270 situation." The falter in Togata's smile reassured him he wouldn't have to say it.

Togata nods. "He's averse to being touched by anyone but Eri, and has reacted violently to it before. Unlikely to eat anything she doesn't give him. Eri herself has become more expressive and excitable, which poses a risk for more frequent quirk slips, but that hasn't been observed. Avoid asking Shinsou questions, and give him a paper and pen if he needs to communicate something, but, " the teen pauses, pulling out his phone. "I wanted to offer this instead!"

Aizawa's eyes narrowed. That was the same phone brand Aizawa himself carried in his pocket, albeit several generations ahead. But Sir Nighteye's agency was far more likely to invest in improved features than government agencies did for their heroes.

"Bubble Girl insisted I keep it, but I really don't need to keep two phones. I lose track of my personal one enough!" Togata says, laughing. "Of course, she has the SIM card, so it can't make any calls to blacklisted numbers, if that's what you're worried about."

He sees Toshinori twisting his hands nervously out of the corner of his eye, but Aizawa certainly doesn't think his input is necessary right now. Any bold declarations of hope or heartfelt connection would fall off of Togata's smile like water off a duck's back.

He was still hiding it.

"Yamada and I are more than capable of getting Shinsou a phone, though the thought hadn't occurred to us. It would be more useful," Aizawa states, still staring at the phone.

"Well, of course you could, but I really don't need it. Helping Shinsou with it is far better than just letting it collect dust in a drawer. I already downloaded a few games he might like, and a text-to-speech app!" Togata says, typing on the phone.

" It's no trou-ble sen-sei ," the phone speaks, in a feminine yet eerily mechanical voice.

Aizawa grunts, hiding how amusingly different the voice was from Shinsou's shockingly deep timbre. "If you're certain that's what you want to do, I won't stop you. Though I'm surprised you didn't bring your usual offering for Eri."

"I couldn't find any she didn't already have," Togata admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But the cashier said they're going to have a new line of giant mochi plushies coming in next month! They're so big and cute-"

"We're running out of room as it is!" Hizashi yells, as he throws open the door, closing it behind him. "Seriously, Togata, you're the only gift you need to bring for Eri and Shouta knows it, he's just bad at teasing you. And Shouta, we're going to be late enough! Good morning, Toshinori!"

"Good morning to you, too," Toshinori answers, seeming shocked that he was addressed. "Please, don't let us keep you. I understand the situation far better now, and if I should have any questions, Togata is here to defer to."

"Wha-no, sir, All Might sir, I didn't mean to-" Togata sputters uncharacteristically, waving his hands frantically.

"My boy, I know Aizawa well enough to recognize when he trusts someone. He certainly places a great deal of trust in you, especially with someone as dear to him as Eri," Toshinori placates. "I hope you'll take care of me in this endeavor."

Togata seemed to combust with the sight of Toshinori bowing so formally. "I. It's not- Please take care of me as well!" He exclaims quickly, answering with his own formal bow.

"Good! Briefing over, ' Mission start off' !" Yamada yells, slipping into English.

Aizawa sighs, and opens the door, ushering Toshinori and Togata inside with him. Eri takes one look at who it is and bolts, hurtling herself towards Togata's arms. "MIRIO!"

"ERI!" He answers, sweeping her off her feet.

Shinsou stares, the subtle clench in his jaw the only break in his masked expression, as he watches Eri and Togata's greeting. Aizawa sighs, knowing that this really went as well as he should have expected. "Shinsou, this is Togata and Toshinori. They will be here while Yamada and I are at school-"

"Shou, I went through it because you were taking too long," Yamada grumbles, tugging on his arm. "Shinsou, are we good?"

The purple haired boy's face slips into a more neutral calm, and he gives two thumbs up, then signs, ' Bye Now Music. '

Before Aizawa can even raise an eyebrow, he's pulled out the door by his husband, who is mumbling that half of his homeroom is legally obligated to leave now.

"Now Music?" Aizawa asks, hoping that would explain Yamada's frantic mood.

The blonde stops, sighing. "I'm being bullied in my own home."


	7. Chapter 7

Aizawa hated using his phone at school, even if it was allowed in the rulebook. It always felt extremely inappropriate, in a way that a well-earned nap didn’t. But he reasoned that since he was planning on taking a nap during homeroom anyway, he could make an allowance.

“Are there any questions regarding the new ward?” Aizawa asked, in a tone that he hoped would sway his students to not ask questions.

Ashido raised her hand, but upon noticing his glare, decided that she wouldn’t be called on. “Why do we have so many more rules with him than with Eri?”

Because I didn’t think to give you rules before I brought her to the classroom, and it was a disaster. “Different circumstances.” Midoriya wavered under his gaze, but his hand remained up. Aizawa sighed. “Midoriya.”

“If the new ward is who I think he is, he has a voice related quirk, which means that difficulties in communication are a sign of very serious issues, but is he considered a vocal type emitter if his quirk factor hasn’t been determined to be-”

“ Midoriya ,” Aizawa repeated, his voice far more gravely in irritation. “A question .”

“R-right, sensei. Is that person who I think he is?” Midoriya finally managed to ask. Aizawa glanced around the room, and too many students looked interested rather than confused by the question.

Aizawa sighed. “The new ward is Shinsou Hitoshi. He was rescued from the 8 Precepts of Death alongside Eri. Don’t interact with him, he is unlikely to speak to any of you. That is all the information you need to know, and you will not inquire further.”

Asui raised her hand, and Aizawa felt the cold sting of betrayal. He couldn’t even manage a glare.

“Asui.”

“Would he recognize those of us who were part of the raid, kero?” Asui asked. “I’m not sure if one of us bringing it up would be distressing, or if we should avoid him more overall, kero, but his state of mind at the time makes the possibility...unclear. Kero.”

At least she had a good question. One that Aizawa hadn’t even prepared for. “I would like to remind you all that you should avoid approaching Shinsou at all , but for those of you who participated in the raid, simply leave it at that. His state of mind at the time remains unclear, but he would be unlikely to remember you.”

Aizawa needs to remember to pull Asui and Uraraka aside later, to gather more information about what happened during the rescue operation. He hadn’t been present, but based on what Asui said, Shinsou wasn’t unconscious. He may have said something that could help the investigation.

“Now, I need to step out of the room for a few minutes. As you are all aware, any destruction or injuries that occur while I’m gone will result in severe discipline on my return.” After staring down Bakugo for an appropriate amount of time, Aizawa steps out and dials Naomasa’s number.

“ Good morning, Eraserhead! I wasn’t expecting your report so early, but that’s a good sign, ” Naomasa greets him, and he hears the closing of a door in the background.

“I need an appointment with the tattoo expert as quickly as possible,” Aizawa stated, checking the hallway as he made his way to a nearby conference room that he knew would be empty.

“ I didn’t expect that to be needed so suddenly, but I’ll make the call after this one. Any time in particular- ”

“Yesterday would have been preferable,” Aizawa answers, closing the conference door behind himself. “Shinsou tried to burn off a tattoo that he gained after being fused with Chisaki.”

“ I’ll pull as many strings as I have. ” Naomasa says, and his tone leaves no room for doubt. “ Is he still unable to talk? ”

“He can speak to Eri, and he knows sign. Not much, but the basics of communication are there. We’ve also used a laptop, but I suspect something is wrong with his right hand. He becomes distressed when asked to write something. Is that news to you?”

“ I’ll talk to Sansa, but when I supervised part of his statement, he didn’t seem distressed. I did suspect an old injury, but we didn’t give the hospital much time to do a thorough investigation. Perhaps Recovery Girl could shed some light on it. ”

Aizawa frowns. “Naomasa, do you remember Bearclaw?”

He’s surprised that Naomasa says yes. The case was closed years ago, a villain who had killed 25 people by tearing them to pieces using his Bear-quirk. When he was apprehended and brought in for questioning as to his motives, suspected to be a member of a crime syndicate, he refused to talk. He had gone stock still and silent, just staring at the wall. But when Naomasa brought in a keychain sized teddy bear that had been in his affects, Bearclaw broke down. He made a full confession, right there, interspersed with pleas to have his keychain back.

“Why did you take off Shinsou’s mask?”

Naomasa doesn’t answer for a while, almost long enough to confirm his suspicions. “ Aizawa. This has become the most unfortunate case I’ve ever handled. There are many things I wish I had done differently, but I had to remove the mask. It was rigged to Chisaki’s vitals. The moment it was taken off, it opened, and if it was still attached, Shinsou’s jaw would have been torn from his skull. We believe that was the moment when Chisaki’s hands were destroyed. ”

“You took it off before you knew that,” Aizawa states. You stacked the deck against a child before you even knew about the Nomu organization.

Naomasa doesn’t disagree. “ I would like to give Shinsou a bugged laptop. In the privacy of his own room, he may type things or search for terms that could be helpful in the investigation. It would be the least invasive way of gathering information. ”

As much as Aizawa would like to refuse, he knows that he can’t. There’s no logical argument against it. “I or Yamada will pick it up when it’s ready.”

“ Good. Unless there’s anything else -”

“I want direct access to what the keylogger finds,” Aizawa interrupts.

“ Of course, I’ll make sure that’s available. And I’ll let you know when the tattoo removal appointment is. ” Naomasa says. “ For what it’s worth, I’m glad that he’s with you, Eraserhead. ”

Aizawa hangs up, glaring at the wall.

He could try to say that being taken off of his patrols for the immediate future was having an effect on him, or that he was simply running on too little sleep, but he knew better.

He hated how much Shinsou was afraid of him. He hated that he had been taught to fear someone that much.

He hated that he had taken advantage of it too.

*

Eri looks up from her coloring book and frowns. It's probably the hundredth time she's checked on Shinsou and found something that disappointed her.

Mirio looks up from his own coloring book to see Shinsou sitting on the couch, ostensibly reading a book about JSL. But he only signs once every four or so pages that he flips through, and he turns each page slowly. His eyes aren't focused on the book now, they're turned to All Might, who seems oblivious to the attention as he reads his own book at the dinner table.

Mirio cups his chin with his hand, wondering what All Might's strategy was. When they first arrived, a hands-off approach seemed like the best method. Shinsou was extremely agitated, which was to be expected with two basically unknown intruders entering his home. He needed time to observe them, to know what kind of actions to expect from them.

But the hard lines from tension in Shinsou's body had only grown stiffer, and the way he glanced at All Might was shifting from fear to irritation. He had also shifted from just sitting on the couch to crouching in the corner of the arm rest, ready to spring forward.

He was becoming more agitated about something, and if it wasn't resolved soon, he may do something drastic.

"Hey, Eri," Mirio called, drawing a flinch from Shinsou. "Have we watered the bean yet today?"

Eri pulled a panicked face. "No! I forgot!"

"It's okay! Let's get some water and check on it!" Mirio said, picking Eri up to help her pick a cup from the cabinet and turning on the faucet so she could fill it with water. He noticed an odd scorch mark in the basin, probably evidence left from Aizawa-sensei trying to make instant noodles again.

Mirio let Eri down and followed her to her room, where she was relieved to find the beansprout on the windowsill no worse for wear. "I'm sorry, Beanie. There's just been a lot of stuff going on," Eri apologized to her science project, gently trickling water into the styrofoam cup.

" It's okay, Eri! " Mirio answered in a high pitched voice. " I know you've been really busy, so I've been working hard to grow a whole lot for you! "

Eri giggled, her panic forgotten. "I want Beanie to grow really big, and make little beans so me and Twenny can both have Beanies. And you can have a Beanie too! Maybe…" Eri trailed off, her voice becoming smaller. "Maybe Twenny won't be scared of you if you both had Beanies. 'Cause Twenny said he likes you, he's just scared."

Mirio nodded, ruffling the top of Eri's head. "I like Twenny too! But I can be kinda scary, since I'm such a big guy. I know he'll stop being scared of me pretty quick, because he knows we're good friends-"

"BEST friends!" Eri corrects, throwing her arms around his legs. Mirio melted at the sight.

Eri had always been shy, even after she had time to warm up to him. Even if she had always felt this way, something had kept her from expressing it in such a happy, normal way. 

Mirio definitely liked Twenny, even if just for allowing Eri to feel safe enough to act like the happy girl she deserved to be.

"I don't think Twenny is really scared of me, though," Mirio says softly, patting Eri's head. "I think he's kinda scared of Toshinori, and I'm kind of in a pickle, because I don't know why."

Eri presses her head against his knees, curling her toes into the carpet. "Mirio, I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but… If you don't tell anyone, never ever ever…. I can tell you."

Mirio crouches down, solemnly offering his pinky finger with his other hand across his heart. "I won't tell, Eri. It'll be our super special secret."

Eri frowns at his offered pinky, becoming far too serious for Mirio not to be concerned. "It's about the bad place that Twenny was at, so you really can't tell anyone, Mirio. Really. Twenny said I can't tell anyone, or something really bad would happen, and he was really scared, so it's got to be really bad ."

Mirio grinds his teeth behind his smile, knowing he's have to betray the very confidence he was promising Eri. "I won't tell anyone, Eri. I wouldn't tell any of our secrets, but especially if it's something dangerous."

Eri stares at his pinky for a while, trying to decide whether to trust him, before she wraps her tiny pinky around his. "Twenny drew a picture, a long time ago. I think he had a bad dream, where people change. And he says that looking at those people makes it better, 'cause you remember what they look like. But Twenny couldn't look at the ladies he drew, so he drew them. And one of them looks kinda like Toshinori."

"And they were from the bad place," Mirio whispers.

Eri nods. "He said I can't tell anyone. And he got really scared when I looked at it. Really really scared. And the picture was scary too."

"Does he still have it?" Mirio asked. "It sounds really scary."

Eri shook her head. "He got rid of it. But the lady had a black eye, like Toshinori, but she only had one. And she had yellow hair, but it was really long and swirly. I had bad dreams about her, 'cause she was so scary."

"What about the other lady? Was she scary too?"

Eri shook her head again. "She looked nice. She was kinda smiling. Twenny got really mad drawing her, but I think he wanted to do a good job. I think it was a really bad dream…" Eri fidgets, her head lowering. " 'Cause when someone nice changes with a bad person, it's really scary."

Mirio knows he should try to get more information on the other woman, but Eri is far too upset for any more prying. "Those are really scary. I'm sorry you and Twenny have dreams like that."

Eri looks up at him, opening her mouth to say something else, but then decides not to, and pulls her pinky away. "Maybe if we get Twenny a stuffie, he won't be scared of Toshinori."

"Maybe! But I had another idea we could try," Mirio says, standing up. "I think that we should try doing something together! All four of us! That way Twenny can see that Toshinori isn't scary, because you'll be right there with him! And nothing bad can happen when Eri is here!"

"Yeah! I can keep Twenny safe and you can too!" Eri cheers, pumping her fist in the air with a toothy not-quite smile.

Mirio grabs her sides and lifts her up, inspired by the heroic pose. He runs into the living room, shouting, "Never fear, Super Eri is here!"

Shinsou flinches, looking at them with wide eyes, but something in Eri's expression pulls a soft smile from him. All Might covers his bloody cough with a handkerchief, then chuckles at the sight. "If I were an active hero, I do believe I'd ask you to be my sidekick, Miss Super Eri! What a bold and reassuring catchphrase!"

Eri shrinks a bit under the scrutiny, embarrassed, and kicks to be put down. As soon as she's on the ground, she runs over to All Might, putting her hands on his knees. "Mr. Toshinori, can we do an activity together? All four of us?"

All Might wrings his hands, nervous in the face of Eri's polite pleading and puppy dog eyes. "O-of course! What would you like to do, Miss Eri?"

Mirio knew that Eri wasn't likely to answer. She was getting better at open-ended questions, but still needed a suggestion or two before she could make a decision. "Maybe we could make lunch together," Mirio offered, wondering how badly a group rendition of Baby Shark could go.

"I'm afraid my cooking skills are on par with Aizawa's, but I am getting better at baking!" Toshinori said, raising his finger. "Perhaps we could bake some cookies to enjoy after lunch?"

"You can make cookies?" Eri asked, eyes wide with wonder.

"Why, yes, I can." All Might answered, nervously scratching the back of his head. "I may have scorched the first few batches I made, but now I'm quite competent!"

Eri raced to Shinsou, placing her hands on his legs. "Twenny! Toshinori can make cookies! A lot of them! Not just the ones in those little packages! That means you can have them too, right? 'Cause you said you can't eat those cookies because they're Eri cookies, but these can be everyone's cookies!"

"Y-yeah, Eri," Shinsou answered, resting his hand on her head. "As long as you get enough, I can have some too. If that's okay."

"Of course! I'm sure Yamada has enough for a few batches, but if not, we can definitely have some supplies delivered," All Might reassured, rising to look through the cabinets. "Yes, we do have a few options… Sugar, snickerdoodle, chocolate chip, oatmeal, perhaps there are a few lemons in the refrigerator too."

Mirio went to check, if only to allow his smile to drop for a few minutes while he searched.

He had allowed himself to forget it, but seeing Shinsou and Eri interact for the first time reminded him of it.

Shinsou was a kid . A kid who had gone through so much already, gaining far more scars than the ones on his face and hands. He was a scared, traumatized kid who ended up raising another kid all by himself. A kid who denied himself cookies so Eri could have enough. A kid who deserved his own cookies.

A kid who needed a hero for years , but never got one. And when he met with Sir Nighteye….

He begged for Eri to be saved, not him.

"We have lemons and oranges!" Mirio announced, painting his smile back on. "And it looks like enough butter, milk, and eggs for several batches. Maybe even one of each!"

"Excellent!" All Might said with a clap. "Now, I have heard that little Miss Eri is quite a fiend for lemon muffins, and young Togata for oatmeal cookies, so I'm quite pleased with our supplies." Mirio blushed, wondering how on Earth that information had gotten to All Might of all people. "I myself enjoy chocolate chip, but what type would you like, Shinsou?"

Mirio flinched. Surely All Might hadn't forgotten….

All Might's jolt and ensuing panic told him he did. "Oh, I mean- you do seem like someone partial to snickerdoodle, but, uh…"

Mirio sent a pleading look to Eri, and noticed how Shinsou's shoulders had risen to his ears. Eri nodded in determination, turning to Shinsou. "Twenny, what's your favorite cookie? I wanna make your favorite ones!"

The tension seeped out of Shinsou all at once, and he smiled at Eri. "I'll like any cookies you make, Eri. I don't really remember my favorite, but I remember liking chocolate."

"I like chocolate too!" Eri cheered.

"Me too!" Mirio cheered as well.

"Perfect! I was hoping to try something a little different if we have enough left over," All Might said, glancing at the coffee pot. "Togata, my boy, if you could get the ingredients from the top shelf - I don't quite trust myself not to drop any - then I can check the instructions for the meal Yamada has prepared for us. And perhaps Eri and Shinsou could set out a few mixing bowls-"

"Yeah! Come on, Twenny, we've got to be good helpers!" Eri cheered, pulling on Shinsou's hand.

"I'm coming," Shinsou answered, pausing to put his book down before allowing himself to be dragged to the kitchen.

Mirio beamed as they set to work, noticing that Shinsou became more relaxed with a task at hand and Eri by his side.

Even if Shinsou still followed every move All Might made as he directed them, it was a far cry from what he had seen before.

The kid even looked happy at times.


	8. Chapter 8

When he hears a knock at the door, Toshinori is prepared to throw himself into a dogeza and beg for Aizawa’s forgiveness, before he realizes that neither Aizawa nor Yamada would have knocked.

Togata looks up from his phone and gives him a reassuring smile. “Oh, I asked Midoriya to pick up a caffeine detox drink from the combini down the street. He just texted to confirm that it’s him.”

“Young Togata, are you certain that’s a good idea?” Toshinori asks, glancing at the still miserable Shinsou, wrapped up in blankets as Eri lays on top of him, watching a cartoon. “Aizawa may not approve of any visitors he doesn’t know about.”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” Togata pledges, bowing quickly. “But if Aizawa-sensei sees Shinsou in this state, we’ll die.”

The cheerful smile only makes the truth of the statement more haunting. “ I will take responsibility, young Togata. I was the poisoner in this instance.”

Togata tries to protest, but another polite knock at the door stops him. He walks forward to open it and greets Midoriya, who takes a look around the darkened room before his eyes fall on Toshinori. “All Might, are you okay? Did someone give you caffeinated tea?”

“Jeez, you’re basically accusing me of poisoning All Might,” Togata pouts exaggeratedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“O-Of course not, Sempai! But why would you need caffeine detox?” Midoriya asks, holding up the bag in his hand.

“To cover up a crime!” Togata cheered with a thumbs up. “Otherwise, Aizawa-sensei will kill us both.”

“Izuku!” Eri cries, running to the green haired teen. “I need the medicine! Right now!”

Midoriya’s eyes look haunted as he turns to face Togata, his movements stilted and tense. “Sempai. Did you-”

“Loud,” Shinsou grumbles, probably due to the headache that had set in an hour ago, stretching his arm weakly towards Midoriya. “Relief. Now.”

“Oh! You must be Shinsou!” Midoriya says, toeing off his shoes to walk over to the miserable teen splayed across the couch. “It’s very nice to meet you! I’m Midoriya Izuku! It’s nice to be able to meet you before tomorrow when you meet everyone in school, since it might help to see a familiar face! Other than Eri and Aizawa and Toshinori and…”

The glare beneath Shinsou’s furrowed brows knocks the wind from Midoriya’s sails, and he rushes to pull out the detox drink.

“R-right, sorry! I got a little too excited, you must feel miserable right now! I grabbed a couple flavors, because I wasn’t sure which one to get. This one is coconu-”

Shinsou yanks the bottle from Midoriya’s hands and chugs it, his eyebrows furrowing further with the effort. He stares at the empty bottle afterwards, then sits up to stare at Midoriya.

“O-oh, here’s another one if you need it!” Midoriya offers, and Shinsou only shakes his head, scanning the room. “Uh, Sempai, why was Shinsou-”

“It was my fault,” Toshinori says, bowing at the waist. “I unwittingly made some mocha cookies with a coffee that is apparently poisonous to all but Aizawa. The effects are, as you can see, quite devastating.”

“The illegal dark blend,” Midoriya mutters, hand raising to cup his chin. “I noticed he was drinking it, which is odd because the forums didn’t pick up on any eventful patrols in his areas, and he wasn’t assigned to watch our dorm, even though it was supposed to be his shift last night. He didn’t appear to be injured, so a mission is unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe he was able to remain on the backlines and had the proper support to-”

Shinsou points to his chest, then his hands flutter into a sign, as he grimaces.

“Oh! Uh, I know that you’re referring to yourself, but I don’t recognize the other sign. Sorry, I only remember a few signs since it’s been so long. I tried to learn with my friend, Kachan, but since it’s him, I only remember the signs for bad words,” Midoriya admitted, scratching the back of his head.

Shinsou stares at him blankly, until Eri runs up to tackle Midoriya from behind. “Twenny, this is Izuku! He talks a lot, but he’s really, super nice! He should be your friend!”

“Eri!” Midoriya says, turning to ruffle her hair with a smile. “It’s nice to see you so excited! I’m sure me and Shinsou will definitely be friends!”

Shinsou watches Midoriya speak to Eri with a guarded expression, something akin to jealousy flashing across his eyes, but then turns around to make sure that the tupperware with the mocha cookies are still on the other end of the couch, along with the stuffed cat. Toshinori has noticed he was quite possessive over those items.

“Hey, Midoriya, is Aizawa-sensei running late? He was supposed to be back around this time.” Togata asks, checking the time on his phone.

Midoriya tilts his head in confusion. “He asked to see Ochako, Tsu-chan, Kachan, and Todoroki after school. I’m not sure why he needed to talk to Ochako and Tsu-chan, but I thought he was going to take Kachan and Todoroki to their provisional licensing training since Yamada-sen…” The teen cups his chin again, eyebrows furrowing. “No, Present Mic doesn’t have a show scheduled for tonight, since it’s Wednesday. And his show is usually cancelled if something comes up, not rescheduled, except for the Christmas special five years ago-”

“I suppose I should call Yamada and ask if he will be the one to return home first, but I do recall he had a meeting with Principal Nezu scheduled,” Toshinori said, pulling out his phone. “Perhaps if we have a few more hours than expected, Shinsou and young Midoriya could become better acquainted.”

Togata pulls an unsure face, probably seeking to gently scold him, but Toshinori raises a hand to stop him.

“I do think it would be good for young Shinsou to have a familiar face tomorrow. After all, class 1-A is an excitable bunch.” Toshinori isn’t sure if his smile is reassuring enough, or if he had simply left no room for the young man to protest politely, but Togata brightens all the same, and agrees.

His phone call to Yamada confirmed his suspicion that he did not know that Aizawa was going to be running late, and that it would indeed be a few hours before Toshinori and Togata would be relieved of their duties. He waved off Yamada’s profuse apologies, and reassured him it was no trouble, before returning to the living room to check on his young charges.

Shinsou still had command of the couch, with only Eri allowed to sit on it, perched on his legs in a way that made Toshinori’s knees ache in sympathy. Togata and Midoriya were sitting on the floor, as the green haired teen spoke excitedly about the cartoon they were about to watch, having seen it during his childhood.

Satisfied, Toshinori began preparing a pot of tea while he searched for a bag of popcorn. The excitement of nearly being slain by Eraserhead had died down, and left him quite worn out for what had otherwise been a pleasant day off.

*

I’m getting real fucking tired of seeing these dumbass kids,” Bakugo groused, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Oi, Sensei, can’t you do something about that?”

Aizawa scanned the hallway as they turned the corner, frowning. “The provisional licensing training isn’t under my discretion. And I don’t disagree with their methods.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING?! I didn’t get into UA to be a damn babysitter! If I see one more snot-nosed little freak I’ll-”

“Shouto!” Endeavor called, exiting a room Aizawa hadn’t been able to check. From the corner of his eye, he saw the flinch. It was a familiar one. “Shouto, you know better than to ignore a message from me.”

“Endeavor,” Aizawa greeted, keeping his tone as level as possible. “If you have something to say to Todoroki, and haven’t gotten a response, reach out through the proper channels provided by UA. This isn’t one of them.”

Endeavor leveled a glare at him, the wreath of flame growing higher. “This seems perfectly adequate to me. I’m speaking to my son, and as I had to take time away from my duties as the number one hero to do so, I suggest you stay out of it .”

“It seems Present Mic gave you the wrong impression last time,” Aizawa said, turning on his heel to approach Endeavor. If the action put Todoroki out of Endeavor’s line of sight, it was just a coincidence. “This isn’t a place for parents to meet with their children. It’s a provisional licensing building. I would expect the number one hero to be aware of that.”

The flames flickered as Endeavor ground his teeth, glaring over Aizawa’s shoulder. He struggled not to use his quirk just to see them flicker out. “Shouto. You will answer my phone call. Am I understood?”

Todoroki nodded, still looking away.

Endeavor turned on his heel and stormed off.

“Sensei,” Todoroki says, far too quietly for even him. “That wasn’t necessary.”

Aizawa knows it was. That it had been. That it had been for a while, but he had looked away from it. “I only do things that are necessary.”

“Thank you.”

Aizawa glances at Bakugo, his arms crossed and his body language unnervingly demure. Hizashi must not have noticed that when he ‘strategically’ left the boys with Endeavor last time, admitting that he hoped Bakugo could give the hero the what-for and only jump in to ward Endeavor off from retaliating. 

Aizawa reminded himself to ask Toshinori to take over the provisional licensing chaperoning duties. It would probably deter Endeavor more efficiently.


	9. Chapter 9

Eri woke up from her nap feeling a lot better. She kind of wanted to wake up Twenny too, but she knows she has to be a good girl, and not bother Twenny. Even though he said he wasn’t sick, she knows he isn’t feeling good, and when you don’t sleep enough when you don’t feel good, you could get sick.

When Twenny got sick, it was really scary. She had to be a really good girl, or else Twenny wouldn’t get medicine. Twenny had a cough and couldn’t talk, so he couldn’t say anything to her, but he really tried to. When He found out about that, He took Eri away from Twenny for a long time. She had to be really good, and go to the chair all on her own. He even made her sit in it without the straps once, but it hurt too much and she couldn’t be good. He just stared at her and put them on. She was glad He did that.

Eri didn’t like going to the chair. She liked going to the Safe Place a lot more. Twenny always put her in the Safe Place when he took her, but He didn’t know how. Or He didn’t want to.

When Eri got to go back to Twenny, he cried a lot. Twenny told her he was sorry, and she knows Twenny says he’s sorry for a lot of things he doesn’t do. But Twenny was really sorry, and Eri cried because he was really, really sad.

Twenny didn’t get better until after they got rescued. Twenny tried to hide his cough, or how he was really tired and clumsy a lot, but Eri knew he wasn’t okay. Eri worried a lot.

Eri still worries about Twenny. She hopes he never gets sick again, because it made him so sad. She tries to take care of him, like he always took care of her. Eri knows that Yama and Zawa worry about that. They give her weird looks when she feeds him or when she cuddles with him when he gets really scared, but it’s Eri’s job to take care of Twenny now that she can. 

Izuku and Mirio and Toshinori gave her really weird looks when Twenny said he was her mom, but it really made Eri happy. And embarrassed, a whole lot. At first, she thought Twenny was being really mean to her. But Twenny’s face was kind of red when he said it, so even though he was embarrassed, she thinks he was happy too.

Eri knows Twenny isn’t her mom. She knows her mom gave her away, just like Twenny’s mom did to him. Eri doesn’t think a lot of moms are nice, only the ones on the TV, but Twenny is like a TV mom, and Eri really wanted to have a TV mom.

But if Eri has a TV mom, Eri needs a TV dad. And Eri wants to see her TV dad right now, and let Twenny sleep. Zawa said that Twenny can sleep alone without having bad dreams, and Eri isn’t sure about that, but she can make him feel better if he does since she’ll be awake.

When Eri opens the door, Zawa changes the picture on his computer. Sometimes he does that when he’s working, because he looks at things that only adults who are ‘read in to the investigation’ can see. And Eri never gets read in, unless it’s an investigation about a cat that went missing. When it is, Zawa shows her a picture and relies on her to tell him where the cat is hiding. He texts what she says to his boss, and after a while, he tells her that she saved the kitty! Eri likes those investigations, because she’s really good at them.

“I heard you had a very busy day with Togata and Toshinori,” Zawa says when she stays by the door, not sure if she can bother him. Zawa sounds really tired, but he also sounds like he wants to talk to her.

Eri walks over and puts her arms over his lap, sighing. “They poisoned Twenny instead of being friends with him. And I got really mad, and really sad. It wasn’t a good day.”

Zawa just stares at her for a while, then puts his hand on her head. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a good day. I know you were excited about it. It was probably Toshinori’s fault, wasn’t it?”

“He didn’t know you drink poison, so he put it in some cookies. I really liked the other cookies, and Twenny REALLY liked the poison ones. He was kind of being bad when he didn’t stop eating them, but I think he knows not to do that anymore,” Eri says, then sighs. “Toshinori scared him too. Twenny gets scared of people a lot, but today he was so scared we couldn’t do the fun things I had planned.”

Zawa frowns, and looks at the computer like he’s kind of mad. “I was planning to take you two to school tomorrow, but it sounds like that’s not a good idea. Shinsou might need some more time to get comfortable here.”

Eri tugs on Zawa’s shirt so he looks at her. “Zawa, can you call Twenny ‘Twenny’? He doesn’t like the name you call him. He said it was weird, and he didn’t like it. But I know he likes being called Twenny.”

Zawa kind of frowns, but then he stops, because he doesn’t like frowning at her. “Eri, would you like to see a picture of Twenny when he was around your age?”

Eri is really excited. She’s never seen any pictures of Twenny, and she was really happy that he took the cat picture, because at least she’d always have that one. She nods, and Zawa picks her up so she can see the computer.

He has to type a lot of things in, and some of them look like dots, even though there’s not a button for dots on the computer. He clicks on something, and a picture of a boy shows up on the screen.

One of his teeth are missing, and he’s kind of smiling in a weird way, kind of like she smiles when she tries really hard to, and he doesn't have any scars. But he has the dark lines under his eyes, and his hair is poofy and purple, just like Twenny’s is.

“That’s what Twenny looked like?” Eri asks, still surprised. She hopes Zawa isn’t playing a trick on her, even though he never does that.

“That’s what Twenny looked like when he was 4 years old. Can you read these little words up here?” Zawa points to the words above the picture, and Eri can read it without saying them out loud, but she always likes to read for Zawa and Yama, because they smile when she does.

“ ‘Shinsou Hitoshi,’” Eri reads, then looks at Zawa. “But that’s the name you guys gave him.”

Zawa smiles at her, but his eyes are kind of sad. “When children are born, their parents give them names, and those names are called ‘legal names.’ Some people change their legal names later on, because they don’t like them, or if they get married, but the name they receive from their parents is meant to be their name for the rest of their life. Twenny’s parents named him Shinsou Hitoshi, and since it’s his legal name, we call him that. But I didn’t know he didn’t like his name, I thought he was just unfamiliar with being called it.”

That makes Eri really confused. “Why did Twenny’s mom give him a name if she gave him away?”

Zawa doesn’t like what she said. His eyes get bigger, like he’s scared, but everything else about him stays the same. “Did Twenny tell you that?”

Eri nodded. “But that’s what a lot of moms do, Zawa. It doesn’t really make sense for moms to name their kids and then give them away. My mom gave me away, but she only gave me half a name. You and Yama tried to find the other half and couldn’t, but maybe He was supposed to give me the other half.”

Zawa puts his arms around Eri’s stomach and hugs her, like Twenny does when he’s really scared. He’s quiet for a long time. “Moms aren’t supposed to do that. Most moms don’t give their children away. I’m sorry that happened to you two.”

Eri looks up at Zawa, and he does look really sad, even though he tries not to. “Zawa, did your mom give you away?”

Zawa’s lips look funny for a minute, and he looks at a corner even though there’s nothing there. “My family wasn’t like most families.”

“What about Yama? Did his mom give him away?”

Zawa doesn’t like that question either. He’s really quiet for a long time, long enough to know that Eri was right. Zawa just wanted to make her feel better, somehow. It doesn’t really make her feel better to know she was right, but she might be even more sad if she found out he was right, and she really was supposed to have a mommy and daddy like on TV.

“Zawa, can I get another name? I want to still be Eri, but I want to have another half of my name, like everyone else has when they write their names.” Eri doesn’t know why, but Zawa’s face turns a little red when she says that.

“The other half of your name is called a ‘family name.’ My full name is ‘Aizawa Shouta,’ and my grandfather’s full name is ‘Aizawa Shoga.’ If someone knew my grandfather’s full name and met me, they would know that we were related, because our family name is 'Aizawa.' .” 

Eri nods, but she doesn’t know why Zawa is taking so long to answer her question. He likes explaining things, but Eri really just wants to know if she can have a real name, like everyone else does.

“To be given a family name, it means that you are adopted into that family. If…you took Toshinori’s family name, for example, your name would be ‘Toshiori Eri.’ And that would imply that Toshinori adopted you, and was legally your father.”

Eri frowned. ‘Adopted’ and ‘Legally’ sounded like really serious words. Zawa didn’t seem like he liked saying them. “So, if my name was ‘Aizawa Eri,’ then you would be my dad?”

Zawa’s face got really red, but he nodded. “I would.”

Eri felt her face get really red too. She tried to hide it by hugging her knees together. The name sounded kind of funny, but she did think Zawa was a good dad. He was a real TV dad, because he smiled at her and hugged her and helped her stop crying when she was sad.

But Yama was a pretty good TV dad too. He was really silly, and kind of loud, but he made her favorite food and always let her help, and he taught her how to braid. ‘Yamada Eri’ sounded kind of funny too.

“Zawa, why aren’t you Yamada if you’re married to Yama?” Eri asked.

Zawa laughed a little, with his really quiet laugh. “Because I went to school with a man named Yamada Shouta, and I didn’t like him. And Hizashi didn’t want to be ‘Aizawa Hizashi,’ because it had too many ‘z’ sounds. It hurt his teeth to say it. So we just decided to keep our own names.”

Eri tilts her head. That sounded really silly to her, since Zawa sounded really serious when he said married people changed their names. But Zawa and Yama were pretty silly sometimes.

“We talked about it for a long time before we decided that, because family names are very serious. Maybe we should talk more about your family name before we decide on one. Does that sound good?” Zawa asks her, and she’s glad he says it like he really wants her to agree. Family names do seem like serious business, and Eri isn’t sure which one she wants.

“Yeah, I think so. Can we go outside?” Eri asks. She likes this place a lot better than her old one. People called her old one a ‘compound,’ and she doesn’t like that word. People call this one a ‘dorm,’ and she likes dorms. Everyone she knows lives in one close by, and she likes being able to see them whenever she wants.

But sometimes, if she stays inside too much, she forgets that it’s different. Zawa always lets her go outside when that happens, even when he’s really busy.

Zawa nods, even though he’s probably busy, and tells her to pick out a jacket and scarf because it’s cold outside. Eri picks her really puffy pink jacket that makes her look like Thirteen when she has it all zipped up, and her favorite scarf that has cat faces on the ends that make pockets for her hands. She likes that it’s a really long scarf, so it kind of makes her look like Zawa when he wears his hero clothes.

Zawa helps her put on her jacket, but lets her put on her shoes by herself. He doesn’t put on a jacket, but Eri can’t really tell him to do that when he’s a grown up. It’s really cold outside though, and it’s really dark. There aren’t even stars out in the sky.

Zawa hums, looking up. “It might rain tomorrow. The clouds are covering up the sky.”

“Oh,” Eri says, then grabs his hand so they can walk down the stairs together. She likes when Zawa explains things to her like that, before she even has to ask him. She used to get really nervous asking him things, because she thought he might get mad, but she knows he won’t now. He even likes answering her questions, even though he answers a lot of questions at work when the heroes ask. He must like answering questions a lot.

Except when Ashido asks questions. He gets mad at her questions, but not Eri’s.

Even when they get down from the stairs, Eri doesn't let go of Zawa's hand. His hands get really cold, and it's already really cold outside, so she needs to make sure they don't turn into icicles like Todoroki's. She knows Zawa wouldn't ask Todoroki to fix his icicle hands if that happened, and Twenny was just her kotatsu head for now. Maybe he could share his kotatsu head someday, but he must be really embarrassed about it now.

There aren't a lot of people outside, probably because it's so cold, and maybe it's really late. Eri gets to say hi to Nemuri, and she says hi back and tells Eri how cute she looks. People tell Eri she's cute a lot, and it used to be really embarrassing, but she had to get used to it.

Nemuri also teases Zawa, and he uses his Teacher Voice at her to make her stop. Zawa sounds mean and even extra tired when he uses his Teacher Voice, but he never uses it on Eri, even when he teaches her things.

Nemuri laughs at Zawa, because she gets his Teacher Voice a whole lot, then tells them to stay warm and leaves to go to her dorm.

Zawa doesn't really take her anywhere in particular. He knows that Eri just wanted to be outside for a while. They get to walk around for a long time, before Zawa gets a phone call. "Is everything alright?"

Eri is glad he answers like that. If he sounded mad, it usually meant he had to go to work, but he sounds like he's talking to Yama.

"We're near the cafeteria, close to the break area outside. We could meet you there, but…"

Zawa listens for a while, then says "Okay," and hangs up.

"Yamada and Shinsou are going to meet up with us. Can you pick out a table for us to sit at while we wait?" Zawa asks, and Eri tries to find a really good table, even though there are a lot of leaves on the one she picks. She tries to brush them off by herself, but Zawa has really long arms, so he does it a lot quicker.

Even though Zawa is really cold, he puts his arm around her while they sit, so Eri can be warm. Eri wishes she could be bigger than Zawa so he could be warm too, but she does like being little and warm.

Zawa puts a leaf on her head, because he's silly. Zawa tells her she looks like a Kappa, and then tells her about how Kappas are magical children that swim all the time and wear bowls on their heads. And if you fill up a Kappa's bowl, they do favors for you.

Eri doesn't need anyone to put water on her head to be helpful, though. She really likes helping anyway.

"Shou! You don't have a jacket on! You don't want to catch a cold, do you?" Present Mic yells. It's a good thing Present Mic's there to scold Zawa, since no one else can.

"I'm fine," Zawa says, but he only says that to tease Mic. Eri knows he's really cold, but he doesn't want Mic to know he knows he's cold. It's 'admitting defeat,' and Zawa doesn't like doing that.

Twenny looks really worried, but he stops looking like that when he sees her. He smiles at her, and she tries to smile back, but she knows she doesn't do it right. At least Twenny knows she meant to.

"Twenny! This is the lunch area of school! Zawa said that the heroes eat here when it's a nice day, but it's too cold for nice days now. When the trees have green leaves again, we'll have nice days and we can eat out here!" Eri is really excited to see trees with green leaves, because she's only seen that on TV or in picture books. She's also excited to eat outside, with Zawa and Yama and Twenny.

Twenny sits down next to her, really close so she's extra warm. Zawa moves his arm before Twenny sits down, and Eri doesn't like that. She really wishes Twenny wasn't scared of Zawa, but she knows he won't be scared forever, because Zawa wasn’t really scary at all.

"Twenny, did you know trees grow leaves every year? They're green first, but then they turn orange and red and brown and fall off. And they do that every year! Trees must get really tired of doing that," Eri says, making sure to talk a lot because Twenny doesn't look like he wants to talk much right now.

He gives her a proud smile, for being so smart, but it turns a little sad. "I did know that. I'm really glad you learned about that too."

"I want to learn a whole lot of stuff, so I can be like Momo! She's really smart, as smart as you are, Twenny! You guys can probably talk about how smart you are for hours! Maybe you can meet her tomorrow, if you're comfortable. It's okay if you're not, though. School was scary at first for me too," Eri kicks her legs out under the table. She wants to be good and not pout, but she really wants to take Twenny to school tomorrow. She wants him to be friends with all her friends, because her friends made her feel better when she used to be scared all the time.

"We were going to have Nemuri come over tomorrow, though! She has all sorts of games and art lessons already planned out! It’ll be really fun!" Mic says, waving his hands around. "She's been around kids a lot, so she’s an expert at having a great time!"

Eri knows that Nemuri is a whole lot of fun, but she looked really tired tonight. She would need to sleep a whole lot not to be tired tomorrow.

Twenny takes out his phone, and starts typing stuff on it. " I a-am fine wi-ith going to schoo-ol. I ca-an only be poi-soned once before I le-earn ."

Present Mic frowns and rubs his forehead, like he does when Zawa really scolds him. "I'm sorry, alright?! Shou tried to tell me Toshinori was a bad idea, but I didn't know it would be this bad! Nemuri is much better equipped to watch you guys!"

Twenny types some more, before Mic even finishes talking. " To-oshino-ri was fi-ine. I ca-an go to schoo-ol, Insta-ant Tra-ansmi-itter ."

Present Mic puts his head on the table and groans. He must have had a really rough day. "This is the sign for 'Transmit.' 'Instant' is just 'Now,' but with quicker movements."

Present Mic lifts his head to watch Twenny copy what Mic's hands did, and smiles.

"Yep! Just like that! Do you have any ideas for Shou's hero name? I can help you come up with some if you're getting tired of picking on me," Mic says, and he really wants Twenny to say yes.

But Twenny doesn't want to. He just shakes his head, and looks at the tree close by. "Eri, have…" Twenny picks at his orange wooly scarf while he stops. "Trees are fun to climb, too."

Eri didn't know that. She really likes trees, but she's never climbed one! She doesn't even mind that Twenny was talking weird again. "Can I climb a tree? I'll be really careful! I've never climbed a tree before!"

Zawa smiles at her and ruffles her hair. "That one looks like a good one." He points at the one that Twenny was looking at.

Eri gets up to run over to it, and Twenny follows her. She's glad he did, because the tree looks really tall, and Twenny isn't even as tall as the tree is. "Twenny, how do I climb it? It's so big!"

Twenny laughs a little, then puts his foot on a big root at the bottom of the tree. "If you stand on this, you can put your hands on this branch and pull yourself up. It looks like someone used their quirk on the tree to make it easier."

"You have a good eye. Kamui Wood took some landscaping liberties when he visited," Zawa says, while Present Mic sits down next to him to keep him warm. "And he refused to undo them when he left."

"But that's good, 'cause now I can climb the tree!" Eri says, standing on the root while she stretches up to reach the branch.

"Wait, let me," Twenny says in a kind of scared voice, leaning over to take her scarf off. "Don't want you to get tangled up."

Eri keeps reaching for the branch, but it's hard to do with her puffy jacket. "But… Zawa's scarf… doesn't tangle."

Eri tries her best to reach it, but right before she gives up, the branch under her grows enough to grab it.

"Zawa! Did Kamui make the tree magic?" Eri asks.

"Maybe." Zawa answers like he's right behind her, and she can hear something that sounds like his magic scarf.

It takes Eri a long time to get her leg over the branch, and Twenny looks really scared, even though he told her how to do it. But when she does it, and pulls herself on the branch, she feels really proud of herself.

She looks at Twenny and Zawa, and they both smile at her. She wishes they could see each other smile, but smiling at Eri will have to be enough for a while. "I did it! I climbed it!"

"Do you want to try standing up?" Zawa asks.

Eri knows she shouldn't, because Twenny looks worried, but she knows it'll be okay because Zawa is here too.

Her legs get really wobbly when she tries to stand, and it starts to get really scary. She puts her arms out to try not to wobble so much, but it’s really tricky. She only stands up for a second before her legs wobble really bad and she starts to fall.

But Zawa’s magic scarf wraps around her stomach so she doesn’t fall. She just stands up straight, and it seems really easy to do it now. “I can stand up! See, Twenny! I can climb and stand up too!”

Twenny gives her another proud smile. “You’re doing a great job, Eri.”

Eri smiles. She knows she did it right, because the muscles in her cheeks get kinda sore, but Zawa’s eyes get really soft, like when he looks at cats, or when he’s really proud of her. Yamada takes a picture on his phone, and she’s really glad he was recording the whole thing.

Twenny looks really happy too. She likes that he looks so happy with something she did.

“Twenny, can I use your kotatsu head?” Eri asks. Twenny’s face gets really red, and Zawa and Yama give her really weird looks, but he nods and walks closer to her, crouching down when he turns around. She’s already up so high that she can sit on his shoulders with just a little help.

She sighs when she puts her hands in his floofy hair. It’s really, really warm, and it feels really nice.

“Twenny, your kotatsu head is the best." Yamada laughs when she says that, and puts his hand in Zawa's hair.

"Emitter quirks do have hot heads, don't they? Super useful on cold nights like these! They're like walking handwarmers! I never thought to call Shou a 'kotatsu head,' though!" Zawa glares at Mic, but doesn't make him take his hand away.

Zawa looks at Twenny, then at Eri. Then he walks over to them, leaving Mic's hands to get cold. "Eri, can you tell me if Shinsou's head is hotter than mine?"

Eri puts one of her hands on Zawa's head, and frowns. Maybe she needs to get closer to his scalp. She messes up Zawa's hair when she ruffles it, but his head is still kind of cold. "Twenny's head is a whole lot hotter."

"How about now?" Zawa uses his quirk, and his hair gets real floaty and pretty.

"Yours is hotter than before, but still not as hot as Twenny's." Zawa frowns a lot when he hears that, and he makes his quirk stop. "It's okay though! Your head is still a pretty good kotatsu! Twenny's is just 'top of the line' kinda kotatsu!"

Present Mic laughs a little, but his eyes look worried. "Well, it's a good thing you have a top of the line kotatsu head! I'll just have to make due with second best." Zawa makes a hissing sound when Mic puts his hands in his hair again, but Mic pretends he didn't. "It's about time we set up the kotatsu at home though, isn't it, Eri?"

Eri nods. Yama had been telling her about how warm and comfy kotatsus are, and she really wanted to try one out.

Twenny's face was really red still, even when they got home. Eri hopes that Twenny doesn't start hating the word 'kotatsu,' even though Yama says it a whole lot to tease him, because she really likes kotatsus.

But out of the three of them that she knows, Twenny and Zawa are still her favorite kotatsus.


	10. Chapter 10

Aizawa watched Recovery Girl take inventory of Bakugo’s injuries, debating on whether he really should expel his student. Not for the fight. Though it was completely out of line, he would have been able to predict it if he knew that Shinsou would restrain Bakugo in a wrist-lock. And given that Shinsou was clearly trained to counter a multitude of quirks, he should have.

There was a reason that Bakugo was only partnered with Kirishima during hand-to-hand combat drills, and Bakugo himself might not be aware of it. At least Kirishima knew to avoid certain restraining holds after Kamino ward.

“Am I gonna get expelled for this?” Bakugo asked, glare still present, but his usual expletives were absent. The adrenaline must be dissipating after Recovery Girl’s treatment.

“I’m assigning you a 100 page essay on the topic of PTSD and trauma-induced disorders. If it’s not completed by the end of the month, you won’t return from winter break,” Aizawa stated. Bakugo’s eyes widened at the page count, but he didn’t complain. “I would suggest you start by researching trauma-induced Selective Mutism. It would be very enlightening for you to know that Shinsou speaking to Eri this morning was normal, not fraudulent.”

Bakugo hissed through his teeth, turning his head to the side. “He’s fucking faking it. Just came up with some bullshit story to go with it.”

“Do you think that I would allow someone dangerous into my classroom?” Aizawa pointedly ignored Bakugo’s finger pointing to his bloody nose. “At what point did he bring out the knife?”

Bakugo’s eyes darted to the side. “When he already had me pinned on the floor, what fucking difference-”

“I suspect that knives are his weapon of choice. His quirk isn’t an offensive one,” Aizawa interrupted. “In what scenario would you try to pin or restrain someone without using your quirk?”

Bakugo looked away again, but he remembered this lesson. Aizawa made sure to drill it into him harder than the other students, knowing his personality. “To deescalate. I fucking…” The teen ground his teeth, snarling. “I didn’t...fucking want to, alright? I wasn’t trying to start shit when I went in there, but he fucking…pissed me off.”

“The second topic you will research,” Aizawa said, making sure to meet his student’s eyes. “Are triggers. A somewhat benign action or stimulation that causes a dramatic emotional response. Shinsou grabbed your arm, or wrist, I assume, and you reacted disproportionately to the situation.”

Bakugo laughed bitterly. “I got fucking triggered, is that right? Those shits at the League didn’t mess me up, they didn’t do shit to me-”

“I couldn’t stand having someone touch my head after USJ,” Aizawa admitted. 

He’s never told that to anyone but Hizashi, and he’s not sure if it’s appropriate to tell Bakugo now, but he needed his student to understand. The naked shock on the blonde’s face told him that he did.

“Most heroes have something akin to that, thanks to our line of work. Like the rest of class 1-A, more was thrown at you before your time.” I’m sorry.

Bakugo grinds his teeth together, glaring at the foot of the cot. “What about All Might?”

Screaming, certain accents, car alarms, gun shots, pressure on the scar on his side. “That’s not my place to say, though he would tell you if you asked.”

The teen’s face falters for a moment, but Aizawa is sure that he won’t. He might assign an interview as another essay topic, after he considers whether it would be helpful or devastating. “He’s fucking weird around Eri. You should be protecting her, not letting some weird guy like him around her. He could be doing some messed up shit when you’re not looking.”

Aizawa allows the change in topic, crossing his arms. “A psychologist recommended that they continue living together for the foreseeable future, because though their relationship is odd, right now it’s beneficial for them both. I have only ever observed a parent-child relationship between them. If it became anything close to what you’re implying, Shinsou would be removed.”

Bakugo nodded, as though Aizawa needed his approval. “It’s not like I care about the snot nosed brat or anything, but she didn’t get too freaked out, right?”

Aizawa only barely kept from rolling his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Eri stuck close to Twenny as they walked to their desks, and hoped that it helped him not be so scared.

Twenny was having a really bad day, and Eri was having a really bad day too. All thanks to the heroes being dumb.

Twenny's first day at school was supposed to be awesome! Eri had a plan for him to have at least five friends by the end of the day, but he was too scared to even talk to his future best friend, Momo.

But that was okay! Twenny's next best friend would be Kirishima, because they both had fun hair and liked Baby Shark, even if they didn't remember each other from school. Kirishima didn't want to talk to Twenny after Bakugo glared at him, but he still said he liked his hair, and that Eri did a really good job on it.

Twenny kept her busy with studying during the first English class, so she couldn't talk to Kaminari or Ashido. Eri wasn't sure if they would be good friends, but they both talked a lot so Twenny wouldn't have to, and they both needed good influences. Zawa said that a lot.

Then, after the second English class, scary Monoma ran up to them instead of Kendo. Kendo is always super nice to Eri, and Yama said she's the mom of Class B, so Eri was sure Twenny would want to be her friend so they can talk about how hard it is to raise kids. But even when Kendo did come over, Monoma started yelling crazy stuff, and that made everyone look at Twenny weird.

Eri usually likes Zawa's free period the best, and she really wanted to spend time with him since she had to start going to Yama's classes instead of just staying with Zawa. But Twenny was really scared. Twenny always looked around rooms, but he kept doing it every time he thought Eri wasn't looking. And he looked at Zawa a lot too, but Zawa was ignoring Twenny. And Zawa ignoring Twenny meant that he didn't really talk to Eri, but he looked at her and smiled whenever she got a question right.

Eri hoped that things would get better after lunch. She was really excited to see Twenny open his bento box and find the happy cat rice ball she worked so hard on. When she was making it, she thought about how much she wanted Twenny to be happy and have friends, just like Yama does when he cooks and thinks about how he wants the people who eat his food to be happy. Yama says that makes the food magically better.

But Eri didn't make it right today.

Eri already knew that Twenny was fighting someone in the bathroom, but seeing him on top of Bakugo with that scary look on his face made Eri's head feel dizzy and her legs feel weird, kind of like they weren't there.

Eri should have been more worried about Twenny, but she kept remembering the fights Twenny had when they lived in the compound.

Sometimes, Eri's quirk didn't work when He wanted it to. When that happened, He did bad things. Sometimes He injected her with something that really hurt. Sometimes, He showed her videos of Twenny fighting people.

Twenny was a good fighter, and Eri always hoped he would win. But that never happened. Twenny would get more and more hurt, until he stopped moving. Twenny would bleed, and his arm would get turned wrong, and his mask would get kicked. Twenny would make sounds that made Eri cry, because she knew he really had to be hurt to make sounds like that.

And Eri couldn't save him.

That bad feeling inside her would make her quirk start working again. And He would tell her that since it worked, He would fix Twenny. But if she ever stopped making it work, He wouldn't, and Twenny would die.

That happened once. Eri felt the bad feeling, and she cried, and she tried to make her quirk work. She tried as hard as she could. But He didn't do what He said He would.

Even when Twenny begged Him to.

Yama and Zawa knew something bad happened, and Zawa went to save Twenny while Yama calmed her down. He asked her to name all the things she could see in the room, to wiggle her toes and make fists with her hands until the dizzy-numb feeling went away.

Then Twenny came back with a bump on his head. Eri was glad it was just a bump, but she was still really mad at Bakugo. When she hugged Twenny, she gave Bakugo the meanest look she could, even though it made her sad to do that to a hero.

She tried to get Twenny to eat more, but he said he couldn't in a really tired voice. He kept pulling at his scarf when he thought she wasn't looking, and he looked kind of scared of her when he caught her watching him do that once.

Eri just really wanted to go home. She felt bad for making Twenny go to school. Even Mirio didn’t make her feel better, and she knew he was trying his best, even though he did it wrong at first. Eri was pretty sure Twenny just wanted to go home too, because he didn’t even read his book during Zawa’s class.

After Zawa talked to him about the knife, Twenny started walking weird. It was like he would walk after Hari took Twenny out of the room sometimes. He was really stiff, kind of like Iida walks when he has to do some class president stuff he’s nervous about, but Twenny didn’t have class president stuff to do. Twenny was probably scared of the doctor’s appointment.

Zawa tried to hide it from Eri by just calling it an appointment, but Eri knew it was a doctor’s appointment. And she knew that Twenny knew that too, because he was really scared. Maybe if Eri begged and cried, Zawa wouldn’t take him. When Eri was supposed to see a doctor about her quirk, she did that, and Zawa called a lot of people and said that Eri couldn’t go. The people were really mad, and Zawa got really mad back, and he even he walked outside to yell at them. But after that, Zawa told her she didn’t have to go if it made her upset.

It was a good thing Twenny likes Yama so much. Eri likes Yama too, but she really wishes Twenny will start to like Zawa as much as she does. Yama started teaching Twenny more English, by writing a bunch of words on the chalkboard and asking Twenny to circle things or use his hands to tell him what they meant. Yama smiled so much at how smart Twenny was that Twenny even smiled a few times too.

But Twenny went back to being slumpy and scared when they had to go to homeroom, even though Mirio was there. And Eri heard the heroes talking about Twenny, and saw them look at him like they were scared.

Eri was starting to hate school, and that made her really sad. She just wanted the day to be over so she could cuddle with Twenny on the couch and keep him safe.

So when Todoroki walked up to Twenny, Eri felt like she was going to cry. She liked Todoroki. He never bothered her, and when he said hi to her, he was always really quiet. Todoroki was the last hero Eri thought she would have to get mad at.

“Todoroki,” Eri said, looking at her desk as she tried to keep her eyes from watering. “Don’t be mean to Twenny. Please.”

Todoroki stepped back really quickly, like he got scared of what Eri said. Maybe he was scared that she was going to use her quirk, because she knows heroes think she uses it when she gets really upset. Sometimes she wonders if that’s why they’re so nice to her. “I’m sorry, Eri. I wanted to ask him a question, but if you would rather-”

Eri looked up at him, and even though his face was still really calm, his eyes were a little wide. He was definitely scared of Eri.

“Eri, it’s okay,” Twenny said, rubbing her back. “It’s just a question.”

Twenny stared at Todoroki, and Todoroki stood up a little straighter as he looked back. “Can I see what your teeth look like?”

Eri looked at Todoroki confused, and Twenny didn’t really move, except to tilt his head a little. Eri was used to Todoroki saying things that made people confused, but that was the most confusing thing Eri has ever heard him say.

Izuku looked a little embarrassed as he looked over at them. “Todoroki, maybe you shouldn’t ask him like that? Or maybe not today?”

Todoroki looked back at Izuku, but then turned back to Twenny to stare at him. It didn’t even look like he was blinking. “I’ve had this theory for a long time, and only you can unlock its mysteries. Can I look at your mouth, please?”

Twenny’s eyebrows screwed up for a minute before he went back to looking like Twenny, then smiled weird to show Todoroki his teeth. Todoroki nodded with a small smile.

“Thank you,” the hero said, then turned back to Izuku. “My theory is correct.”

A lot of students wanted to know his theory. Some of them were excited, but a few of them just laid their heads on their desks and covered their ears.

“He’s only been here one day and Todoroki already has a theory! Spill! Spill! Spill!” Ashido chanted, pumping her fists up and down.

Todoroki looked at Zawa, who was pretending to ignore everything going on, like he usually does when they don’t make too much trouble. “It would be inappropriate to tell everyone here.”

Zawa looked up, and Todoroki jumped when he noticed. “Todoroki. Why is this theory inappropriate to talk about?”

Todoroki didn’t look like he wanted to tell Zawa. “It may have been insensitive to tell Midoriya about it. I apologize, Sensei. And I don’t hold any judgements for your personal history.”

Izuku laid his head on the desk and covered it with his arms. “Todoroki, please don’t...”

Zawa ran a hand over his mouth as he leaned back, like he was trying to hide whether he was mad or trying not to laugh. “Since your classmates are so intrigued now, please explain your theory. You can use the chalkboard if that’s more effective.”

Todoroki nodded, and walked to the front of the classroom. Everyone turned to watch him, even Twenny.

Todoroki wrote Aizawa’s name at the top of the board, then Eri’s a little further down, with a line between them and ‘Red eyes’ in the middle. ‘Parent’ was written under Aizawa’s name, and ‘Child’ above Eri’s. Todoroki then turned to face the class. “I have begun to suspect that the reason that Aizawa-sensei and Eri’s relationship formed so quickly is due to Aizawa-sensei being Eri’s father. Until today, their similar eye color when Sensei activates his quirk was my only evidence.”

Midoriya hugged his head tighter. “Todoroki, that’s not how quirk heredity works.”

“It could be,” Todoroki answers. “But if Aizawa-sensei were Eri’s father, she wouldn’t have been in the situation she was previously. It wasn’t until we learned about Shinsou that I was able to connect the pieces.”

“You haven’t connected shit,” Bakugo growled. “What does looking into Shit-sou’s mouth like a fucking pervert have to do with any of this?”

Todoroki just turned back to the board and wrote ‘Shinsou,’ with a line going to Aizawa and ‘Emitter quirk,’ ‘Tired,’ and ‘Teeth’ written in the middle. Then he drew a rectangle and lines inside of it to make a bunch of little squares right beside ‘Teeth.’ “Shinsou and Aizawa share several similar attributes. The most valuable evidence is their teeth. They both have perfectly aligned teeth, something too rare to be coincidence. It’s genetic.”

Sero raised his hand. “Todoroki, you’ve heard of braces, right? Maybe you shouldn’t just start saying Aizawa-sensei had kids then abandoned them? Right in front of him? Because braces exist?”

Todoroki shook his head. “I’m not casting any judgements. In fact, I have reason to believe these circumstances were out of Aizawa-sensei’s control.”

Todoroki drew another line from ‘Shinsou’ and wrote ‘Yamada’ at the top of it, and ‘Voice quirk’ in the middle of the line. He then drew a line between ‘Aizawa’ and ‘Yamada’ and wrote ‘Close Relationship’ underneath it.

“I have reason to believe that at one time, Aizawa-sensei and Yamada-sensei wanted to have a child together. They contacted a surrogate,” Todoroki explains, writing ‘Mother’ under Zawa and Yama’s relationship line, then drawing a line from that word to ‘Shinsou.’ “Who carried Shinsou to term in secret after Aizawa-sensei was unable to pay for the services due to being an underground hero, as his salary is the lowest in the industry.”

Todoroki drew a yen sign and crossed it out above ‘Aizawa.’

“A surrogate wouldn’t be able to combine genetic information that way, Todoroki,” Momo said with a raised hand. “I think we’ve gone over this-”

“She had a quirk that allowed her to,” Todoroki answered without looking back. “However, this woman was also tied to the criminal underworld, and gave Shinsou to the 8 Precepts of Death. And after Aizawa-sensei’s career progressed and he became more widely known, she was able to use her quirk to conceive Eri without Aizawa-sensei’s knowledge, in hopes of creating a rival to one day take him down. Eri was given away as well, and not discovered until the raid on the 8 Precepts.” 

Todoroki finished the line between ‘Woman’ and ‘Eri,’ then drew a line between ‘Eri’ and ‘Shinsou’ before he put the chalk down, turning to face the class. 

“This brings us to the present. Eri and Shinsou were unconsciously aware that they are siblings, which explains the relationship between them, and the relationship between them and Aizawa-sensei.”

Eri looked between Twenny and Zawa, wondering if Todoroki was right. Twenny’s mom did give him away, just like her mom did. Maybe their moms were the same mom, and Zawa really was their dad. Maybe Twenny was scared of Zawa because he knew that somehow, and was really just mad at Zawa for not being their dad for a long time.

Todoroki made a lot of sense.

Bakugo slammed his hands on his desk, making Eri jump. “OR, this is all some half-baked bullshit and you’re all fucking idiots for buying this! The twerp has red eyes and the corpse has weird teeth! That’s all you fucking got! You gonna say I’m Sensei’s bastard child next?!”

Todoroki tilted his head to the side like he was thinking about it. “You are very defensive about this theory, and you did instigate the fight-”

“I know that a lot of Todoroki’s theories have been found to be untrue,” Iida says, flapping his hands around to try to get Bakugo to calm down. “But this one may explain something that has been previously unexplained. However, I don’t believe it would be appropriate to pry into Aizawa-sensei’s personal life, so we should try to forget the information that has-”

“What?! Iida!” Ochako says, turning around in her desk. “Is Todoroki right about this?!”

“It isn’t appropriate for us to-”

“Dude, you have to tell us!” Kirishima yelled, smiling really big.

Class A started yelling over each other and crowding Iida into a corner. Eri felt bad for him, but she really wanted to know too.

“Return to your seats,” Zawa said in his Teacher Voice, making everyone frown as they sat back down. “Iida, explain to the class why you think Todoroki’s theory is credible.”

Iida jumped like he didn’t expect Zawa to tell him that, but with everyone looking at him and Zawa telling him to, he had to. “If Eri and Shinsou are both wards, they wouldn’t be allowed to live together. The policies surrounding wardships strictly prohibit any cohabitation. In fact, only wards from unrelated investigations are allowed one hour of supervised interaction if the appropriate forms are filed and approved. Aizawa-sensei above any other hero would adhere to those policies. However, if Eri or Shinsou were his biological child-”

“Enough,” Zawa interrupted, frowning. He looked at the chalkboard again, for a long time. Long enough that Eri stopped wondering if it was true, but started wondering whether it was her or Twenny that had Zawa as a dad. “Iida is right about wardship housing policies, though that isn’t covered until your third year. However, neither I nor Present Mic have children.”

The heroes were quiet while Zawa erased the board, and Eri tried not to get too upset. It would have been really nice if Zawa was her dad.

Izuku raised his hand, waiting for Zawa to turn around and call on him. But Zawa was cleaning the board really slowly, like he didn’t want to have to call on Izuku. “Sensei, um. If Iida is right about the wardship policies, then why-”

“Iida is correct," Zawa answered, his Teacher Voice sounding a little more tired than usual. "Allowances were made above my paygrade."

Zawa erased the yen sign.

"Free periods are a privilege, so I suggest that you use it for self-study," Zawa said, turning around to face the class with his angriest Teacher Voice. "If you don't, I'm more than happy to assign a 20 page report on the topic of pay disparity in the hero industry."

The heroes all found books to read, but Eri didn't want to read hers.

When Zawa took her home from the hospital, he told her she was living with him as a 'ward.' Wards got to live with heroes to keep them safe, and she knew Twenny really needed to be a ward to keep him safe.

But Twenny wasn't supposed to live with them. Zawa said it was allowed, but it didn't sound like he was as sure as Iida was when he said it wasn't.

If Twenny wasn't supposed to live with them, was someone going to take him away? If Eri wasn't good, would that make them take Twenny away? Would Twenny have to go back to the bad place?

Twenny looked like he was worried about that too.


	12. Chapter 12

Hizashi could only hold him, he knows any assurances he could come up with would go unheard right now. Shouta just breathes, he doesn't want to talk yet, doesn't trust himself with words. He goes limp in Hizashi's embrace, head tucked into his shoulder.

It had been a very bad day.

The fight with Bakugo. The knife they didn't know about. The tension Shinsou carried with him the entire day, somehow worse than the way he had been in the interrogation room.

And Eri, despondent little Eri, had started calling Shouta 'Aizawa' again.

Hizashi knew it hurt. Becoming 'Yamada' again hurt. It hurt to hear Eri revert back to her quiet, polite way of speaking, dropping her nicknames and flashes of emotion in her tone. The way she tried to sound too mature when she spoke, flinching when she mumbled a word as though she expected to be corrected far more harshly than Shinsou ever would.

He knew it hurt Shouta more. He had been Zawa longer than he had been Yama.

They knew there would be backtracking. Regression. But it hurt to think they caused this, that keeping Shinsou home for one more day could have prevented it in some way, or delayed it. That they had failed as heroes, as caretakers.

But they were here now. The wards were asleep, and the walls could drop. They could hold each other, let the guilt seep out, and try to fix it tomorrow.

"I need to talk to Nemuri," Shouta whispers, pulling away just slightly. "If she has any advice…."

Hizashi nods, tracing circles over Shouta's shoulders. "It's not your fault."

Shouta presses his forehead against him, hiding his face. "I have to fix it."

He knows Shouta would struggle to say that if he could see his face, even with him. He knew Eri had only lived with them for a month, knew that was hardly enough time to justify the way they had begun to feel about her. The way Shouta felt a bit more keenly, but no less readily than Hizashi.

If Shinsou's eyes stopped lighting up when he signed to him….

It was something so small. They had known Shinsou for days , not weeks, and Hizashi knows he should be more concerned. Knows this feeling could be stemming from an unhealthy place, from poisoned ground. Trying to save that middle schooler that was convinced he was a villain because of what happened when he was born, instead of the kid who had been through so much worse . The kid who was afraid of something worse than Chisaki.

"I've got a few hours before work. I'll be here if anything happens," Hizashi reassures, and wishes he had taken another day off from his hero duties. He was offered that time, but he didn’t really consider how much more difficult the transition would be for Shinsou than Eri. He didn’t even think that Shinsou would be attached to him this early, especially not more attached to him than Shouta.

Shouta nods, and gives him a barely-there kiss before he leaves for Midnight's dorm. To get answers, to get a strategy.

Shouta without a strategy was a painful sight to see.

*

"Oh? Does your husband know what you're doing here, Shou-chan?" Midnight purred, leaning against the door.

She must have gotten the hint by the way he invited himself inside, as she closed the door and walked to the kitchen to mix up some instant coffee. He didn't even have the energy to complain about that offensive choice in drink.

"Yamada didn't tell me why Shinsou isn't in my art class anymore," Nemuri said, half complaint, half inquiry. Originally, they wanted to see if Shinsou could handle being away from Eri for a short period of time, and Nemuri’s art class seemed well suited to distract him. But after the reaction he had to waking up without Eri there, that plan was quickly changed. Though, there were other reasons.

"Something is wrong with his hand. He avoids using it," Aizawa answers, settling into his usual place on her couch, and Nemuri hums thoughtfully. "Eri regressed. I'm 'Aizawa' now."

He forces his fist to relax, but the tension just travels up to his jaw. It was selfish of him, selfish to let it hurt. Eri had to be hurting more. Hurting because of him. Because he failed her.

"It happens. A lot," Nemuri chides, handing him a mug one of her wards had made. The son of a mob boss who could cry poison tears, if he remembered correctly. "When did it start?"

"After school, when we got home," Aizawa takes a sip, and ignores the taste. "She was quiet during the walk, and hasn't left Shinsou's side since lunch."

Nemuri takes the armchair catty corner to the couch, legs tucked underneath her. "A lot of changes have taken place in a very short amount of time. That's scary enough, but according to the rumor mill, it was a very stressful day. Safety is in past behaviors, and proven people."

He thought he was one of them. A person Eri could trust.

"She'll try again, Aizawa. And after that, she'll remember that it's safe. And after that, she'll retreat back into her shell," Nemuri takes a drink, and sighs. "It's hard. It feels like an insult to your entire career, to have a child doubt you. But it's never really about you , it's about what they've learned, what was proven to keep them safe years before they even met you. One day, she'll regress from something else, but you will still be 'Zawa.' "

Aizawa rubs his thumb over the handle of the mug, the edges where it was rough and less glazed. "It would have been better if Shinsou was assigned to you. Eri could still have that anchor." I have no idea how to help him . I’ve already messed up this badly.

Nemuri hums her dissatisfaction, giving him a half-hearted glare. "You're right! If he was my ward, I'd have him talking on the first day! With all of my years of experience, he would be fully recovered by now! Really, you're doing everything wrong!"

He knows she's joking, but he doesn't feel like she's wrong.

Nemuri softens, staring at her own mug. From the little girl that she reassigned to Joke. The one ward she couldn't talk about for years afterwards, blaming herself when the investigating officer should have known better. The reason Aizawa stared at the mugshots of the 8 Precepts members for hours, trying to find them in his own face. "Shinsou is a hard one. I don't envy you at all."

Aizawa doesn't want to say it. Some illogical thing rises in him at the thought, telling him he's admitting to being a villain, in some way, by admitting he's seen as one. "He sees me as Chisaki. He does anything that resembles an order when I speak to him. Tomorrow, he's going to have a tattoo removed," Aizawa pauses, realizing he's holding the mug so tightly his knuckles are turning white. "I don't know how to convince him that I'm not giving him another brand."

Nemuri leans her head against the back of the chair, turning her mug in her hands. "That's a hard one. Trying to convince a child that they own their own body, but with Shinsou…."

Shinsou hasn't had enough time to even fathom that. Aizawa hasn't given him enough time.

"It was his choice, right?" Nemuri asks, stripping too much accusation from her tone to make him doubt the question was anything but.

"He got it when he was fused with Chisaki and another member of the 8 Precepts," Aizawa answers. "He was going to burn it off if I didn't catch him."

Nemuri keeps his expression blank, but her breath catches for a moment. "He's not ready to face the brands, then. That's another trauma entirely. One too many."

"Five that I know of," Aizawa says, then more softly. "Hundreds that I don't."

"Only he does," Nemuri muses, an indirect attempt to reassure. "Let him think about what he wants. I wouldn't…." Nemuri sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. "I didn't even look with Yukoi. It might have helped."

Yukoi was reassigned a week later. Nemuri thinks that removing the brand without replacing it was too new, too challenging. The wait for the new one too much to bear.

"Shou, I do love you, and I know you're trying your best," Nemuri says, staring at him with a soft gaze that turns harder. "But you need to treat Shinsou like Eri, even if he's far more deadly."

Aizawa wanted to know, but he didn't expect to hear this. "In what way?"

"You go on duty when you're with him. You watch for him to reach for the knife, check his feet for a fighting stance," Nemuri glances at the capture scarf Aizawa hasn't taken off in days. "Shinsou might not have noticed that, but he can see the difference between you and Yamada. Yamada shares things with him, even if it's just a smile or a bit of nervousness. Yamada is vulnerable, and you never are. Except with Eri."

Aizawa was trained against it. He struggled, even with Eri, to do it. Let himself smile. Let himself relax. Let her play with his hair. Telling her things that he liked, things that he never shared so easily with others.

Eri made it easier. He told himself he had to do these things, to model them for her. And it got easier as it worked, as she did start to talk to him more, to tell him the things she liked too.

He didn't notice his guard rising with Shinsou, but Nemuri was right. He hadn't shared anything with him, half out of avoiding him to keep from causing him stress, but the other half was training. Recognizing the way Shinsou carried himself, remembering the video of him fighting off his attackers in that cell. The brutal injuries he had caused when he was in that interrogation room. Aizawa was recognizing a threat instead of the child beneath it.

"It's hard, I know," Nemuri sighs, propping her head on her hand. "The first time I was able to turn my back to a ward who pulled out a knife, I got stabbed. It took a long time to try again, but the second time, I didn't. Maybe because they knew how much I hate getting stabbed."

Aizawa almost hopes Shinsou would do that. That kind of fear was familiar, and far less than the stock-still terror Aizawa inspired now. "You should meet him this weekend. Observe the situation."

Nemuri gives him a Cheshire grin. "Well, if you insist, but Emi is coming in Friday night. I'll just have to invite her too, so she won't be lonely ."

"Fine," Aizawa answers, taking another sip of his rancid drink.

Nemuri waits for a protest, or at least a stipulation, but Aizawa has none to offer. This situation is far beyond him, and he knows that. "You've got it bad, Shouta," Nemuri teases. "The 'Zawa' withdrawals are making you desperate."

"She has experience with mute cases," Aizawa answers, making Nemuri glance away. "And she's far more tolerable with a distraction."

Nemuri chuckles, pressing a finger to her lip. "Oh, isn't she? Delightfully one-track minded."

Aizawa ignores the innuendo, finding himself more settled now. 

Sharing things. Expressing vulnerabilities.

Chisaki wouldn't have done that.


	13. Chapter 13

Aizawa wondered why Togata was taking so long to bring Eri and Shinsou to Gym Gamma, until he sees Hizashi has also tagged along, his hand clapped tight around Togata's shoulder.

That much is enough for Aizawa to know the situation, but Hizashi still tells him anyway. "Oh good! Toshinori is here! I'm going to steal Eri's date for a little bit, do you think he can keep an eye on our dear listeners?" ' He broke down.'

"There's no cookies for him to poison, so I'm sure it'll be fine." Aizawa tucks his hair behind his ear, tapping once. Hizashi could sign with Shinsou at his back, but Aizawa was in his direct line of sight, and Shinsou didn't need to know any more about Togata's situation than he already did.

But the kid wasn’t looking at Aizawa at all. His gaze was locked on the students, who were practicing quirk control, hopefully still solo under Toshinori's supervision.

Shinsou's expression betrayed nothing, but a subtle shift of his feet confirmed Aizawa's worries. Aizawa sent a pointed glance at Eri, then back to Hizashi. "You're supposed to be in class right now. Unless you finally took my advice and had 1-C expelled."

"Shou! I wouldn't do that! I would definitely cancel class and become the most beloved teacher on staff, though!" ' Will try. '

"Being well-liked as a teacher is a sign of not doing your job well," Aizawa chided, risking a subtle nod. "But you've never taken my advice before, and you won't start now. I'll work out who has babysitting duty with Toshinori. With any luck, he'll take over training and we can leave."

"You can't call me a bad teacher and then try to skip yourself! But I'll see you at home, little listeners!" Hizashi said, waving to Shinsou and Eri as he guided Togata out.

"The heroes are training! You've never seen them train before, right Twenny?" Eri asked, pointing to the arena. "You gotta watch out for Izuku, though! Zawa says he breaks his arms way too much, so you gotta yell at him if he looks like he's gonna break them again."

Shinsou was still watching, an eyebrow rising for a second before it was schooled back into place. "You're probably better at yelling at him, so I'll leave that up to you."

Aizawa approached Toshinori, keeping watch on Shinsou from the corner of his eye. The retired hero hardly noticed his approach, humming while he considered what he saw below. "Toshinori."

A mild sputter of blood answered him, and Toshinori covered his mouth as he turned. "Yes?"

"Togata had something come up. He was going to keep an eye on Eri and Shinsou, but would you mind-"

"Oh, of course!" Toshinori interrupts, realizing that the wards' presence. "Though, I thought Eri kept herself occupied during these training exercises. Perhaps I hadn't been paying much attention."

Shinsou's stance adjusts again, and this time he leans back a bit, a muted dodge from a student's blow. Aizawa frowns. "Keep Shinsou from watching. This sight is too familiar for him."

Toshinori nods grimly, but a friendlier version of his signature grin replaces that serious expression as he walks towards the wards. Aizawa takes his place to lean against the railing, watching the training below though his attention is solely focused behind him. "It's nice to see you two again. I hope the students have been behaving themselves, though I know they’re quite overwhelming at times.”

“Bakugo got in a fight with Twenny, and Todoroki thinks Twenny is Zawa’s kid. But they haven’t been mean today! Maybe they’re being good because it’s Friday!” Eri rambled, excited but not entirely comfortable with Toshinori’s presence.

“They do know that they have to behave on Fridays, or else face young Aizawa’s wrath at the dorm over the weekend,” Toshinori chuckles, and Aizawa fights not to grin to himself. “I was wondering if you two would help an old man like me learn something I truly should have made time for before now, if you would like to.”

“Yeah! We’re really good helpers, right Twenny?” Eri asks, tugging on a piece of clothing to get Shinsou’s attention.

“Yeah.”

Toshinori needed to hurry up. The answer was calm, but Shinsou was never that short with Eri. He might already be too close to falling away. “You see, I was hoping to learn a bit more sign language, but young Yamada is very busy. Since young Shinsou here has been picking it up so well, perhaps he could show me how to say a few words.”

Aizawa winced. He knew he should have given them an activity or a few ideas, but he had no idea that Toshinori was going to come up with that. How did he expect Shinsou to teach him without saying the meaning of each sign?

“I know some! And I can ask Twenny to show me more, so Twenny doesn’t have to talk to you. Right, Twenny?” Eri asked, a bit worried that she still had to fight for Shinsou’s attention.

Aizawa leaned back and caught the sight of Shinsou stepping back as though coming out of the fog, guilt flashing in a frown and wide eyes as he turned to look down at Eri. “Yeah, that’s fine. If that… That should be okay.”

A statement where a question was. He was adapting his way of speaking, but something in the way his alarm dropped away from his tone told Aizawa this wasn’t new. New to Eri, but Shinsou had learned to speak this way to others. The struggle was in doing it with Eri, in this new situation. In a place he was safe. “Thank you, my boy! I truly appreciate it! Now, I believe there’s a spot right over there that’s far enough away from young Bakugo’s explosives for us to hear each other. If I know the boy, and I do, he’s only warming up right now.”

On cue, Bakugo fired his grenade at the wall, glaring at it afterwards. He had been working with the Support Department to find a balance between the multiple rounds that multiple collection cannisters provided, without losing too much firepower. Dividing his sweat into thirds seemed to be too much in his opinion, though Aizawa thought it was perfectly adequate.

Jirou was also finding fault with her costume improvements, though admittedly, it was still in the prototype phase. Moving the speaker ports to her shoulders did allow her to use her quirk faster, but she was having trouble remembering exactly where those ports were without looking. The cable for the aux extender didn’t look like it was secured or hidden either. He would have to check in with the Support Department to make sure that was taken care of in the end-result.

Aizawa was able to focus on his class for a while, making notes but seeing nothing that required his intervention. When Asui’s maneuvering put her a bit too close to ‘Bakugo’s area,’ Kirishima warned her before Bakugo could start having a fit.

Aizawa was too busy watching Bakugo as he turned to grouse at Kirishima over some perceived insult that he didn’t notice the newcomer until his name was called. “Eraserhead! Don’t tell me you threw him in there with all those quirks going off.”

Sansa. Shit.

Sansa hadn’t noticed Shinsou’s presence tucked into a corner of the walkway, but Shinsou had noticed his. His body was frozen, eyes terror wide and locked on the police officer. Fear written on his face more plainly than Aizawa had ever seen it. Had ever inspired.

“Toshinori, take over here,” Aizawa growled, taking Sansa’s shoulder to guide him outside. It didn’t matter if Shinsou watched the training and lost himself in a fight long-ended, because he had never looked as afraid as he was of the sight of the police officer.

Sansa had better hope it was just the uniform.

“What are you doing here?” Aizawa demanded, fixing the officer with narrowed eyes.

Sansa’s ears tipped forward, crossing his arms. “You didn’t read Naomasa’s email? He realized he didn’t tell you before you hung up, but due to Shinsou’s case, you need a police escort to go off campus. I was the lucky winner today.”

“I should have been called back, an email isn’t for time-sensitive information. I would have been able to warn him that you were coming,” Aizawa fights not to mirror Sansa’s posture, fights to strip the anger from his tone. “You can see how that would be important, considering the circumstances of Shinsou’s case.”

Sansa’s ears flicked back, catching the insult and accusation as intended. Then, he sighed, lowering his head as he shook it. “Yeah, Naomasa wasn’t exaggerating. You really can’t get like this, Eraser. This case is too-”

“I’m a bit more concerned about my ward’s wellbeing than the case, Sansa,” Eraserhead interrupts, forced to drag the question out into the open. “Is there a reason why you were picked that I’m not aware of?”

Sansa stared him down, futily, before he laughed, quick and exasperated. “Yeah, actually. Naomasa sat down and watched a month of security footage to figure out which one of us would scare him the least. It was me. I wasn’t there as much.”

“During the interrogation, or when he was force fed?” Aizawa hopes the question catches him off-guard enough to slip up. He knows he was there for the interrogation.

Sansa goes rigid, the fur on the back of his neck fluffing up. Aizawa has never seen him that angry, and he’s seen Sansa in every color over the years they’ve worked together. But the anger falls away, leaving something far more open and raw. “No, I wasn’t there for the force feeding. Only a few times, when Naomasa thought it might help the kid stay…”

Sansa trails off, shaking his head in frustration, a less useful guard. 

“Do you know how long we begged him to eat? We all took turns, cooking, buying take-out, eating some of it in front of him to prove it was safe. We begged him to eat every time, but there was nothing we could do , Eraser. We didn’t have Eri.”

Aizawa feels the doubt begin to creep, but doesn’t show it. He wants Sansa to keep going.

“Naomasa thinks that you think it was part of the investigation. It wasn’t , it was just a precinct full of people who were just trying to keep this kid alive. People who dedicated their lives to protecting others, watching this kid waste away in front of us. We tried , Eraser. Tried to get him to eat, to stop trying to bite off his own tongue-”

“What do you mean by that?” Aizawa interrupts, stepping forward with a glare. “That wasn’t in the files I was given. If Shinsou is a-”

“Well, maybe Naomasa gave you shitty files because the guy hadn’t left the station in a week!" Sansa nearly slips into a yowl, but Aizawa would believe him even if he didn't.

He remembered how exhausted the detective had looked that day at the station. He remembered wondering how bad this case could be to grow so many lines on the young detectives face, wondered how long it had been since Naomasa last saw his wife.

"You have no idea how hard he had to push back to keep Mind Slice out of it! If you didn’t take him in, Kenma would be using his quirk on Shinsou right now.” 

Mind Slice. To think of using that man’s quirk on a traumatized child….

Sansa shakes his head. “You’ve worked with us for years, Eraser. You’ve worked with me , and if you think I wanted any of that, to do that to that kid….”

Aizawa breathes. He knows enough now, enough to believe Sansa. But to re-evaluate the situation, he needs more. “Did you use a muzzle?”

It was standard procedure. Aizawa had only seen it used a few times, just to secure someone for transport to a hospital where they could be sedated and treated. The rubber mouth guard was just to protect someone from their most desperate moments, but for Shinsou, it was likely kept on for days, the hospital already a dangerous place for him. Sansa looks away and nods, scowling. “I was the one to take it off. He… tried to hold on to it.”

Aizawa isn’t shocked to know that.

“I let him. I waited, tried to get him to play cards with me. After we played a few rounds, he started having a spell, and I could take it off of him. I don’t know if that was better than just ripping it off the first time, but I was just trying not to hurt him. That’s all any of us ever did,” Sansa fixes him with a stare, reeling back from the vulnerability that Aizawa had maneuvered him into. “The whole station is waiting to hear from me. It’s Naomasa’s day off and I know he’s parked right in front to hear it first. We want to know that he’s okay.”

Aizawa doesn’t know if that word applies to Shinsou, or if it ever really would. “He eats if Eri gives it to him. He slept the first two nights. He doesn’t eat or sleep enough, but-”

“It's a miracle he does, you have no idea. He didn’t even move , Eraser, he...” Sansa interrupts, shaking his head as he looks back at Gym Gamma. “Hanajima is going to cry when she hears that.”

Hanajima never cries. She’s seen too much to be able to anymore, but Sansa’s own suspicious sniff makes Aizawa rethink that.

“We should go over the files together, make sure you have everything. Did you get the update on the mother?” Sansa asks, ears perking up.

“I haven’t checked my email,” Aizawa states, hand moving to his phone before he realizes Sansa will tell him. He’s eager to know.

“Interpol is playing ball with us now. With what Eri said, we actually have evidence of human trafficking charges, which always makes our international friends work a little harder. The mother might know something, and if she knows enough, then…” Sansa spreads out his arms for a moment, shaking his head. “Shinsou won’t have to talk.”

“Is there a plan after that?” Aizawa asks, realizing he has never thought that far ahead. “Infiltrate deeper, or take them out?”

“It depends on what we find out. I say take them out, keep them from taking any more victims. Let Shinsou sleep at night,” Sansa’s head tilts, ear flicking. “Or are you asking what happens after that?”

He was. “I wasn’t.”

Sansa grins all the same. “It makes a lot more sense now. Naomasa should have known better, especially since Eri came along.”

Aizawa fixes him with an exhausted glare. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I was concerned with his methods, and considering everything that went wrong with this case, I had reason to be a bit short."

The grin softens into something less teasing, but even more accusatory. "It's going to take a while before all this is over, but if you're already this protective of him in a week, I'm going to bet you'll be filling out the adoption papers by Christmas."

"He is a ward under my care," Aizawa states. "I'm only as protective as I need to be to do my job."

Sansa just shrugs and doesn't push.

"I still have a training session to supervise. Stay in Shinsou's line of sight, but don't interact with him, just talk to Toshinori. Let him observe you," Aizawa both orders and asks, considering the best strategy. "Eri will probably want to talk to you as well, but keep in mind that Shinsou is protective of her. If he feels you're a threat to her, he'll attack."

"You say that like it's a threat to me," Sansa says, one ear flicked back. "I know how to deescalate, Eraser, but the kid is skin and bones."

"He has my knife." Sansa should probably be aware of that.

" Why does he have a knife? " Sansa asks shrilly.

"He stole it, and I let him keep it. I suspect he has extensive weapons training, based off of a conversation he had with Eri-”

“Yeah, Eraser? You gave the kid a knife ?” Sansa repeats, still stuck in disbelief. “You know you can’t do that, right? We’ve had enough instances where heroes get stabbed by their wards, and if you become one of them-”

“He won’t,” Aizawa cuts off, fighting the tension that builds. Sansa should know that he won’t, that he’s been trained not to. “If he tries to, I can stop him. But if he does, it’s a sign of progress.”

Sansa stops, silent for a moment. “Right, but… Damn.”

“I’m consulting with more experienced heroes in that regard,” Aizawa says, barely glancing at Sansa. “If you don’t mind, I do have a class to get back to.”

“Yeah, got it. Watch out for knives, thanks for that,” Sansa complains, following behind.

Aizawa sees it first. He knows the moment it turns ugly, and pulls himself over the railing to get there in time, knowing that even if he could shout, words would take too long to carry.

He isn’t fast enough.


	14. Chapter 14

Shinsou doesn’t even look like he’s breathing, but that distant look in his eye tells Aizawa that it’s not because he’s winded.

He was too late to stop the match, but fast enough to stop Ojiro from doing a field check. Aizawa doesn't want to know what would happen if someone broke Shinsou out of that trance with a touch after it was triggered in a fight.

He doesn't want to know what Shinsou sees right now either, instead of the ceiling he's staring at with unblinking eyes.

Eri shoves through the ring of students, running towards Shinsou. Aizawa raises his arm to stop her from reaching the dazed teen, afraid that she could become his target for the fight still playing in his mind. Her fingers clench tight in his sleeves, and she calls out for Shinsou. "Twenny!"

He springs up with a ragged gasp, hand brushing over his mouth then hair, pausing when he realizes his hair moves. That it isn't tied up in knots and mats.

Aizawa has never been more grateful that Hizashi was able to cut it.

"So, the charges moved down from murder to witness tam-"

"Sansa," Aizawa hisses with a glare, turning back to Shinsou. "Are you injured?"

Shinsou is still too dazed to hear him, still panting too hard, scanning his surroundings jerkily.

"Ojiro probably ripped his fucking hair out, swinging him around like a fucking middle schooler in a cat fight," Bakugo snarls, half helpful and half antagonizing.

Ojiro looks up, finally finding an outlet for his panic, fists still clenching and unclenching at his sides. "The pin he was trying for would have broken my tail! I was trying to stop him!"

"Sprain it, or tear a few ligaments," Shinsou says. The unnervingly flat tone of his voice is more shocking than the fact that he speaks. "You wouldn't go down if I didn't."

Shock crosses Ojiro's face before it slips into anger. "You were trying to- we agreed to 'light sparring!' That means no injuries!"

"I'm close to 500, and you knew that. Do you wa- hah ," Shinsou stops, wincing as he lowered his head into his hands, pressing tight against his temples.

His quirk was causing him pain, and Aizawa suspected it wasn't just the sudden use of it. He knew enough about mental emitter quirks to know that the reaction he was having right now was a dangerous one.

"We're taking him to Recovery Girl. Ojir-"

"No, Eraser, wait," Sansa pleaded, catching the name Shinsou spoke, the number. "Hold off on that? For five minutes? He's talking, so just-"

"How much information will you get before he has a stroke?" Aizawa snaps. Eri's trembling making the shock on Sansa's face a hollow victory. He rests a hand on Eri’s head, softening his tone for her. "We're taking Shinsou to Recovery Girl. He’s going to be fine.”

She nods, then walks over to Shinsou, who thankfully recognizes her presence, trying to hide the agony still twisted on his face. “M’fine. Don’t worry,” Shinsou tells her, though he whispers through gritted teeth.

She pulls his hood over his head, not because it will block out some of the light. Cats were one of her little superstitions, and Aizawa suspects that picking that hoodie out for Shinsou kept her from protesting more against taking him to school.

“Ojiro, you’re coming as well. The rest of you are-”

“IS SHINsou okay?!” Present Mic yells, before he’s cut off by Aizawa’s quirk. Shinsou makes a sound suspiciously similar to a sob. He waves a hand for Present Mic to come down from the walkway, and Present Mic nods before he starts sprinting towards the stairs.

“The rest of you are dismissed,” Aizawa orders, glancing around at the still shell-shocked students, and very pointedly not at Toshinori. He doesn’t trust himself enough to do so.

“Aizawa-sensei, should I carry-” Ojiro stops as Shinsou pulls himself up, unsteady on his feet.

Ojiro should carry Shinsou. He should have been able to do a field check before allowing him to sit up. He should be able to check his pupil size, ask how severe the pain is and where it’s localized. None of those things can happen in Shinsou’s case, and Aizawa can only hold out hope that Chiyo can check him over, even in this agitated state.

Yamada doesn’t keep the concern out of his expression, and Aizawa doubts he could if he tried. “Take Eri. I still have to sort things out with Sansa,” Aizawa tells him, glancing in Toshinori’s direction. He doesn’t feel guilty all for the ear bleeding assault he has brought on the Symbol of Peace.

*

Shinsou barely makes it to the main building, stumbling so often that he gets tired of glaring at Ojiro with every offer of aid. The pace to Recovery Girl’s office is so tortuously slow that Aizawa’s nerves sing in relief to see the sign above her door, finally able to stop fighting the urge to throw the teenager over his shoulder to get him there faster.

Chiyo takes one look at Shinsou and scowls. “When I told Yamada that he needed to be seen regularly, I did not mean daily, Eraserhead.”

“He tried to use his quirk, and now he has a migraine,” Aizawa answers, as Shinsou sits on the cot Chiyo directs him to. “Ojiro’s tail may also be sprained.”

“I think it’s just a pulled muscle, sen…” his student tries to protest, but Aizawa’s glower stops him. It’s one of the many reasons he appreciates Ojiro. “But I’m not sure, so it’s best to be evaluated.”

Aizawa nods, and walks Sansa just outside the door, allowing Chiyo the space to work. “Reschedule the appointment.”

“It could just be a migraine, and he should be back on his feet in time,” the cat officer argues.

“He’s not in the right state of mind to make any decisions like that,” Aizawa answers. “And that’s if it’s only a migraine.”

Sansa isn’t pleased, but he nods and takes out his phone. Aizawa returns to the nurse’s room, telling himself that it’s only rational to be present to sign off on any treatment Chiyo needs to provide.

“Ojiro was correct, it’s just a light muscle injury. And Shinsou does have a migraine, so it’s best to let him rest here while the treatment starts to set in,” Chiyo informs him, but Aizawa knows her well enough to know what she really means to say when she glances at her personal office.

“Toshinori allowed the fight, didn’t he?” Aizawa asks Ojiro, who looks down guiltily despite his attempts not to shame him.

“He said that it would be a lighter way to end the week. Shinsou seemed frustrated when he was going up against Sero and Uraraka, so I thought-”

“You were his third opponent?” Aizawa interrupts. He couldn’t have been away for that long.

“We weren’t given time limits, it was just a ‘Flip the Turtle’ kind of match. Sero wasn’t taking it seriously, he was trying to imitate some anime move. And Uraraka has only been training for less than a year, so she’s still hesitant when she goes for something more advanced. Oh, I forgot that he fought Iida too. The knee lock he did was a little risky, considering his mufflers were hot," Ojiro reports, his tail swishing once to betray the excitement he must have felt to see a challenging opponent.

He knew he couldn't blame Ojiro for that. With all of his years of martial arts training, his hand-to-hand combat matches were decidedly one-sided, and his peers used that to their own advantage. Shinsou was probably the first opponent that wouldn't need a lesson at the end of the match to explain a hold or flip.

"I should have realized it then. That Shinsou is a bit reckless," Ojiro says, sinking back into guilt.

That isn't surprising. He was probably trained to view his body only slightly more valuable than his knife. To be disposable, if the situation called for it. However, " Three of your peers were taken down, even with their quirks?"

Ojiro knows that tone. He fears it. "Sensei, I'm sure they weren't taking it seriously-"

"Even if they weren't, and they should take every moment of training seriously, they were defeated too easily." Aizawa sees a lot of quirkless combat drills in their future. Ojiro sees it too, shoulders slumping at the thought of all the tutoring he'll be asked for.

It almost makes Aizawa ask, but he catches himself when he sees Sansa return.

"You should return to the dorms and rest. You're not in trouble this time, since this was allowed to go on with a teacher's approval," Aizawa reassures, and the relief on Ojiro's face almost makes him leave it at that. "But at some point, Class A needs to understand the meaning of don't interact ."

Ojiro apologizes, glancing at Shinsou as he leaves, clearly wanting to ask if he'll be alright. But fear wins out in the end, and he doesn't.

Chiyo jerks her head towards her office, which is too cramped for all three of them. Sansa assumes a guard position against the wall as Aizawa closes the door.

"I know you're new to wardships, Aizawa," Chiyo says as she sits in front of her computer. "But I've never been assigned to be the sole medical provider for a ward, and frankly, I'm not equipped for it."

"It's necessary," Aizawa states. It shouldn't be.

Chiyo takes his word for it, sighing. “I can't tell how badly he strained himself. With what little I was given by the police, his temperature runs abnormally hot, and fluctuates dangerously."

"Is the lack of using his quirk making it worse?" Aizawa asks. That had been their biggest concern with Shinsou's muteness. After using his quirk so regularly, the shock of disuse would cause problems, and even if those problems became life-threatening, they had little recourse, given his reaction to using his quirk on Eri.

"It's one of many possibilities. I'm not a quirk specialist, so I can't say one way or another," Chiyo answers. "I'm also not a nutritionist, but I've done my best to put together a few recommendations, after Yamada told me you weren't given anything."

Hizashi hadn't told him that, but he did notice more vegetables in their lunch than usual. He sees the first sentence on the page, bolded and in red, and frowns. "He likes coffee."

"I doubt his body could process the sugar in a full serving of fruit," Chiyo chides. "He can only take in so much, what he eats and drinks has to be nutritionally sound. He's dehydrated on top of that, and severely stressed."

"Unsurprisingly," Aizawa deadpans.

"His immune system is weakened due to that. You should take precautions to keep him from getting sick, such as a face mask or hand sanitizer," Chiyo advises, and Aizawa tries to hide the clench in his jaw. "You emailed me about his hand, but I haven't examined it."

"If it's not possible to do so without his knowledge, it would be best not to. Not yet," Aizawa says. Not until he trusts us to know .

Chiyo shakes her head. “There’s enough scarring to suggest nerve damage, but I can’t say for sure. Does he know enough sign to give me a little more of his medical history?”

Aizawa frowns, doubting Shinsou even knew it, or even had any medical history to give. “We can see.”

When Aizawa opens the door, he doesn’t expect to see Sansa standing right beside Shinsou’s cot, taking off his gloves. “You know, I’m pretty sure I’ve shown you before, after you cheated at Uno.”

Shinsou’s eyes are still focused on Sansa’s hands, the wideness not set in fear, but something else. Something that makes the kid seem far younger and more innocent than he ever had outside of sleep.

Sansa flexes his hands, revealing the reason he wore gloves in the first place. The pads of his fingers had soft, rounded bumps, not unlike a cat’s. His toe beans. He hated showing them to people, and Aizawa probably hadn’t helped with that. Sansa glares at him half-heartedly, whining, “Eraserhead, don’t you have a cat that the kid could obsess over? I’m pretty sure that’s why Naomasa picked you.”

“Cats are a responsibility I can’t afford, given my work schedule,” Aizawa lies. 

A few years ago, he and Hizashi had been adopted by a white longhaired hair stray that had taken their community food offerings as an invitation to move in with them. Hizashi figured that she must have been a house cat at one time, abandoned on the street after she became inconvenient, but she remembered enough to integrate herself seamlessly into their apartment. Happy to chase their socks around, knock cups and other odds and ends onto the floor in what Hizashi claimed were ‘gravity tests.’ She made a habit of kneading into Aizawa’s ribs or chest after every patrol gone sour, adding her own little wounds to the ones he already earned that night. Not that he would protest, even if he could.

Socks passed away during winter break, after too many hard years had aged her too quickly. Hizashi was beginning to think of adopting another cat from their feral colony, specifically the tabby runt that liked to curl up against their window every winter. 

Then USJ happened. Then the dorms. Then Eri. Now Shinsou.

At least there wasn’t room to argue about cat adoption. “Shinsou, Recovery Girl would like to ask you a few questions. Are you feeling well enough for that?”

The purple haired boy tilted his head minutely, but looked at Aizawa with a surprising blankness. He still didn’t meet his eyes, but his shoulders were far more relaxed than usual. He nodded.

“Have you gotten headaches before, after you use your quirk too much?” Chiyo asks. “Is that a normal reaction?”

Shinsou’s eyes widen a bit, lips parting before he retreats back into calm, but he pauses before he answers. He must not have remembered trying to use his quirk. ‘ 4 people. Don’t.’ He stops, rigidity workings its way back into his limbs. ‘ Not want. My fault. I am sorry. ’

“You were in an altered state after hitting your head. I know it wasn’t intentional, and I’m not angry,” Aizawa placates, though he doesn’t expect his words to calm Shinsou down. It must be terrifying to find out you did something after the fact, with no memory of doing it. “Do you get headaches after you use your quirk on four people, or because you fought four students?”

‘First.’ Shinsou signs. Then draws a line from under his nose to his lip. ‘Blood. Dangerous. Mind pain.’ His finger taps against his knee, trying to remember another sign. ‘P-A-S-S-O-U-T.’

“Do you need to end the control on each person, or do you control all of them at once?” Aizawa asks, unsure whether Chiyo actually needs to know that information, or if it’s purely his own curiosity.

‘ All. Not end. Learning. ’ His signs become more fluid as he describes his quirk’s capabilities, different from the slight shaking of his hands when he explained its risks. Unsurprisingly, since he had lived so long in an environment where his quirk’s utility had been the only thing keeping him alive.

Aizawa nods. “He has headaches, nosebleeds, and could pass out controlling four people at once.”

“Those could be symptoms of a brain hemorrhage,” Chiyo notes, and Shinsou nods. “Did someone tell you that was a risk?”

Shinsou nods again, hands lifting to sign, but he stops himself and shrinks. He must have been told that at the Nomu Organization that had him previously. And he thinks even giving that away could be dangerous.

“Is there anything else causing you discomfort? Are you sleeping and eating well?”

Shinsou shakes his head then nods, a lie, but he does it resolutely enough to make Aizawa wonder if he really believed it. If what he had at UA truly was more than he had ever been allowed before.

“Those are all the questions I have for now, but I would like to see Shinsou in a week’s time for another check-up. Not beforehand, please,” Chiyo glares, and Aizawa can tell that she’s disappointed in the comparison to Midoriya’s frequent visits.

He could try to convince her that it was All Might’s fault, but the words sing hollow now. He knew it was his own fault. Shinsou was a ward under his care, not Toshinori’s. He was the one who failed to prevent this.

Aizawa expects Sansa to bid his farewell when they exit the building, but he doesn’t. “So, the old man said he can take him in anytime, since it’s such a small piece to remove,” Sansa says, ignoring Aizawa’s glare. “We could reschedule, but maybe we could also ask the kid what he wants to do.”

Shinsou’s head tilts at that, though he seems to be trying to ignore that they were talking about him in the first place, still staring across the campus landscape with his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie.

Despite Aizawa’s reservations, he does ask. “Shinsou, would you still like to have that tattoo removed today?”

The kid goes completely still, then turns his head to glance at Aizawa’s face before his eyes dart to the side, his usual focus. He must have forgotten about the appointment entirely, understandably given the chaos the last few days had been. He nods, though he still doesn’t relax.

“There isn’t any rush, if you would rather-”

“The kid said yes, Eraserhead,” Sansa interrupts, grinning. “I don’t need a translation to know what a nod means.”

Aizawa sighs, worried that this was still too much for Shinsou. The kid might have agreed, but whether he was in the right frame of mind to do so was unclear. But if Aizawa refused, that itself was as good as a brand.

For better or worse, Shinsou had made his decision, and Aizawa hoped it wouldn’t waver.


	15. Chapter 15

The dorm is thankfully quiet tonight, though Aizawa wishes they didn’t have to be there. He wishes he could just let the wards return to the dorm to find some semblance of comfort in more familiar surroundings, but luckily, neither of them seem too affected by the day’s events.

Eri and Shinsou are both sitting on the cot against the wall of the ‘Safe Room,’ as the teachers have named the dorm observation room. Aizawa glances up at the surveillance monitors every now and again, while he re-works his class calendar to include as many hand-to-hand combat sessions as he feasibly can. He knows he can’t strain his students too much when every class they have pushes them to the limit, and he knows that this is a problem focused on in their second year.

But as good as Shinsou was, he shouldn’t have won three matches against his students. They needed to try harder.

He glances up again, to the central monitor focused on Bakugo’s dorm room. The door is wide open, and he sees Sero dart back inside with a video game controller. Technically, he should go down there to tell them that quiet hours still apply on the weekends, and they need to be in their own rooms either studying or sleeping, but he knows that they know he won’t. It’s too much effort for very little reward.

Eri is still trying to figure out the phone game that she plays with Togata, nestled in Shinsou’s lap while she pouts at his phone. They had caught a few monsters when they first set it up, but now there weren’t any more to be caught, unless they started walking around, which was the point of the game.

Shinsou still looked like he was seconds from falling asleep, though he had looked that way for hours now. Still fighting it, even with Eri’s presence and the silence of the Safe Room.

Aizawa hoped that he would lose out before Hizashi returned in the morning and could take the two wards back to their own dorm. He knows that Shinsou barely slept in the interrogation room, that the first two nights his body needed sleep more than he could fight it, but he hopes it wasn’t a fluke. The kid needed to unlearn the sleeping patterns that he had been used to at the 8 Precepts compound, perhaps even before that.

Eri leaned back and sighed, the phone falling out of her hands. Bored of watching a screen without monsters on it. She looked up at Shinsou, then Aizawa, and back again, a question she was working up the courage to ask plain on her face.

“Mom, can I get an apple from downstairs?”

Shinsou startled, staring at Aizawa’s back, and Aizawa looked back at the central screen just in case the purple haired teen could tell he had been using the reflection of the screens to keep watch over them. Shinsou was waiting for a reaction, but Aizawa made sure not to give him one, not after the choking fit he was caught off-guard by yesterday morning. “You need to ask Aizawa that question, Eri.”

“Zawa, can I get an apple? Tokoyami said I can have his apples if he has some, and I think he does,” Eri asks.

“That’s fine,” Aizawa answers, turning to look at his charges, catching the way that Shinsou’s lips twitched downward in a frown. “The students have cleared out of the common areas if you would like to go with her, Shinsou.”

He nods agreement, following Eri as she stands up to walk to the door, holding onto his hand. Aizawa follows them on the camera feeds, to make sure there wouldn’t be any incidents of his students rushing up to ask how Shinsou was after the match earlier today.

‘Mom.’ That was a new one.

Not at all unfounded, given their history, their dynamic, but Aizawa could tell that Shinsou wasn’t comfortable with it. Aizawa wasn’t either, to be honest, but he didn’t want to confront what ‘Mom’ really stood for just yet. He knew he would eventually, if it didn’t degrade naturally over time.

With any luck, Eri and Shinsou would find themselves in a place where that word didn’t fit anymore. Where Shinsou was no longer Eri’s primary protection against a dangerous and frightening world, and Eri was no longer the only person in Shinsou’s world he truly cared about. Whether that dynamic would soften into a sibling relationship, or somewhere in between was completely unpredictable at this point.

But both their worlds were larger at UA, for better or worse.

Aizawa sees his personal phone light up before it begins to vibrate, and frowns when he reads the caller ID. “You’re on duty. Don’t tell me you’re slacking off or injured.”

“ What, me? Slacking off? I would never! I just found myself in a quiet part of town and wanted to see how my little bean and favorite listener are doing, since I’ve barely gotten to see them all day! ”

Slacker. “They’re fine. Eri will probably fall asleep soon, hopefully Shinsou will too. The appointment went well.”

Hizashi sighs in relief. “ That’s good, I really wish I could have gone too. So, I definitely chewed Toshinori out a bit too much, we’re going to have to send him a fruit basket or something. It turns out our little purple haired listener has a bit of a manipulative streak. ”

Aizawa cocks an eyebrow. “How so?”

“ After he taught him how to sign ‘friend,’ he went on a little spiel about how he wishes he could be friends with Class A, but you’re just so cruel and heartless, thinking he’s a villain, so you wouldn’t even let him watch them train. Sad puppy dog eyes and everything. Of course, Toshinori being Toshinori decided that the sparring matches were a good way for them to relate to each other, common skillsets and all, but jeez. Would you have been able to say no? ”

“Yes,” Aizawa hisses. “Because I know that Shinsou is a traumatized child, and he shouldn’t be given to his every whim. I told Toshinori not to let him watch, and I didn’t think I would have to get more specific than that.”

“Well, Toshinori had the best of intentions, at least, so I do feel bad about yelling at him.” Hizashi pauses, probably checking his surroundings again before he speaks. “The talk with Togata went well enough. I don’t think he realized how unhealthy his thinking was before I sat down with him. He cried, we cried… He’s grieving now, though. Finally.”

“I noticed,” Aizawa says. It wasn’t easy to see with how naturally he beamed at Eri, how little had changed in their own dynamic, but the weariness had finally set in to his shoulders. When Eri wasn’t looking, the smile was allowed to fall.

It would get easier to let it fall when it needed to. “ Did you have any idea that babysitters are so expensive?! We’ve really robbed the poor boy! Maybehecanstaywithusoverwinterbreak- I mean, we have really robbed-”

“Hizashi,” Aizawa interrupts, rubbing his eyes. They’ve talked about this. At length. “Disregarding how inappropriate that would be, we don’t have the space for it. And Togata has a father.”

A supportive, emotionally well-adjusted, non-neglectful father on top of that. To the point that Aizawa finds himself wondering why Togata chose to be a hero in the first place. “ Well, about that… It’s kind of an adjustment right now. Togata didn’t say enough for me to know one way or another, but I think it might be a bit hard for him to go home right now. They have the same quirk, and to know his father still has his…. He might just need an escape route. ”

Damn it. “We’ll talk about it.”

Hizashi knows that means yes. “ So, you’re alone right now, right? ”

Aizawa knows he is, but he still finds himself glancing at the door, knowing that tone Hizashi is using. “Yes.”

“ What are you wearing? Something se- ” A scream and crash in the distance cuts Hizashi off, and even though they’re only talking on the phone, Aizawa can almost see the twitch in his husband’s eyebrow.

Aizawa laughs, despite himself. “I’ll call you.”

“ Can’t even… I love you! ” Hizashi grouses, turning cheerier before he hangs up to actually do his job, now that he has to.

Aizawa puts his phone down, performing another cursory glance at the monitors before he freezes, then sprints for the door with a swear.

When would Class 1-A understand the meaning of don’t interact with Shinsou?

*

"Sensei,” Kirishima says, fists still knotted at his sides. “Why didn’t they find him? Why did he have to…”

His words choke off, unable to say them. Without the right to say them.

He feels it like a throbbing wound in his pride, as a man, as a hero. He didn’t know why he didn’t before then, how he was able to forget. It seemed easy enough at the time. 

His mom told him that he and Shinsou weren’t really friends. In fact, Kirishima didn’t even like him back then. They got into a fight at school after Shinsou started telling him facts about sharks, and asking if he had rows of teeth behind the ones in the front or if they’d grow in when he was older.

He was too young to believe his mother when she tried to tell him Shinsou was probably trying to be his friend. He decided he hated Shinsou after that.

Until he went missing.

Kirishima looked for Shinsou, half of it because the heroes that visited the school said they were looking, and he wanted to impress them. The other half was to apologize for being cruel. For not being his friend. For making him leave because he must have been lonely.

All of that faded into memory, and then faded further into nothingness. While Kirishima forgot about him and went to school, had friends, and worried about his cowardly personality, Shinsou was still missing.

Shinsou was being sold .

“What were you showing him on your phone?” Aizawa asks, watching as Ashido wiped away her tears and sniffled.

“Pictures, we…” Ashido’s voice is strained as she tries to answer through the tears. “We went to school together. We were friends be-before…and I forgot about him while he…”

Aizawa rests his hands on their shoulders, and Kirishima flinches with the contact. He could have looked harder. He could have at least remembered him. “You weren’t heroes. You were children .”

“I only looked at the playground!” Ashido wails, voicing the desperate pain Kirishima isn’t brave enough to do more than feel. “And I started playing when I got bored! What if I could have found him?!”

“No one found him,” Aizawa answers, more sternly. “Because the people who had him didn’t want him to be found. Those people are being investigated now, by fully fledged heroes. Not four year olds.”

Kirishima turns to Aizawa, determined. “Sensei, I want to-”

“ Fully fledged heroes, meaning myself and Present Mic,” Aizawa interrupts flatly. “If I find out that any of Class A is involving themselves in this investigation, they will be expelled.”

It’s easier to accept, knowing that Eraserhead is the one in charge of the investigation. Kirishima knows his teacher won’t give up easily.

“Now,” Aizawa says, turning to Ashido, “Since it’s relevant to the investigation, I need you to send me all the pictures you have, and anything you can remember about Shinsou’s disappearance, or his circumstances leading up to it. I’ll be reaching out to both of your parents for what they remember as well.”

“This video,” Ashido says, brushing her tears from her determined face, turning back to her phone. “It’s important. Shinsou’s mom was really strict, especially after he got his quirk. My mom thought she might have… done something.”

Kirishima’s mom didn’t. She told him Shinsou’s mom was so torn up about his disappearance, she drove herself crazy afterwards. His mom wished she still had her number, so Shinsou’s mother would know that her son was safe. “Where is Shinsou’s mom? If Shinsou is staying with you-”

“I can’t disclose that,” Aizawa answers, staring at the phone while Ashido hits play.

“ Shinny! Shinny! Look at Rupert! He’s gonna be Mocha’s best friend… ”

*

Shinsou is asleep, Eri passed out on his arm. They seemed to sleep that way out of habit, something that reminds Aizawa how confused Eri had been when she held up a pillow on her hospital bed. ‘ These are soft. ’ She couldn’t yet ask him what they were, only the furrow of her brow communicated her need for him to explain.

He hadn’t wanted to ask if she had ever had one before. He didn’t want to know if such a simple comfort had been withheld from her, an action that couldn’t be anything less than pure malice. Completely illogical.

‘ You know better than that !’

Aizawa is glad that Shinsou is asleep. Those words still ring in his ears, the voice twisting and becoming something more familiar. More shrill at times, more exasperated at others. The same voice and the same words, at different points in time.

‘ You know you can’t do that to your mother. You need to keep the eyepatch on, or else Mommy can’t see what she’s doing. It scares Mommy when you do that. ’

He was watching TV, not looking at her. Illogical. Completely irrational.

‘ Even when you’re sleeping, Shouta. I know it gets sweaty, but what if Mommy needs to check on you? You don’t want to scare Mommy, do you? ’

His eyes would be closed while he slept. Delusional. Acting out of fear, not reason.

‘ How can I trust you when you’re acting like that?! The look on your face, it’s- you hate me, don’t you Shouta?! You want to see me get hurt! That’s why you’re going to your grandfather’s, I can’t trust you at all! You won’t behave! Put your eyepatch back- ’

Did Shinsou Ui buy a muzzle?

Aizawa closes his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. This was unprofessional. This line of thinking had to stop.

There were similarities, but thinking about them served no purpose. It wouldn’t help with the investigation, it wouldn’t help Shinsou at all.

Shinsou Ui reacted poorly to her son’s quirk when it developed. She instructed him not to ask questions. Shinsou scratched his head before he asked questions, perhaps due to an uncomfortable sensation where the quirk factor cells were growing, like many developing quirks caused.

A four year old couldn’t be expected to ignore that uncomfortable feeling. Shinsou asked a question, one that didn’t seem like anything other than natural curiosity. He reached out to Ashido after he did so, and became upset when he was caught. Not out of shock, but shame, too quick for this to be the first time he had been scolded.

It was hard to know for certain, with only a few seconds of footage, but something in Shinsou Ui’s reaction read deeper than scorn, or anger. There was a moment when Ashido was saying goodbye that her jaw seemed to be shaking, her eyes seemed more distant.

Thinking of the similarities would serve no purpose.

Not when the differences were so vital.


	16. Chapter 16

Aizawa was full of regret.

Not because he’s had five hours of sleep over the past two days.

Not because he didn’t think to replenish his coffee stash in the Safe Room.

He regretted ever inviting Emi over, to what he thought was his dorm room, but what she interpreted as Class 1-A’s dorm.

A dorm full of students who were going to be expelled if they didn’t take those damn Delete Face shirts off.

“Eraserhead! Don’t you always look beautiful in the morning? So dashing and handsome, oh! Please marry me now!” Emi cooed, sorting through a cardboard box to find a size large enough for Shoji. “Your students and my students already get along so well, we can just find a school somewhere between UA and Ketsubutsu and transfer them all there! We’ll be one big, happy, blended family!”

“Sensei, are we going to have a joint training session with Ketsubutsu?” Kaminari asks with a grin, pulling at the seams of his Delete Face shirt to show it off. “We should all wear these shirts to-”

“No,” Aizawa says flatly, realizing that Kaminari seemed to be impervious to the usual death glare. “Ms. Joke isn’t here for any official UA business. Nor would she ever be.”

Emi burst out laughing. “There’s that humor I love so much! Shouta, please ! I’m already yours, you didn’t have to go through the trouble of finding these two little cuties! The little girl has my hair and your eyes, and that strapping young man definitely has my sense of humor and your chin! Oh! What a perfect little family.”

While Emi holds her blushing cheeks, Aizawa notices Todoroki move his hand to his chin in thought.

Eri moved closer to the cardboard box on the floor, causing Shinsou to follow close behind, still staring at Emi to evaluate her threat level. “I have this shirt too! So does Twenny!”

“Of course you do, sweetheart! Eraserhead doesn’t have any proper merch, so these professional knock offs are the next best thing! And you’ve got to show that you appreciate the hero that takes such good care of you!” Emi gushed, wrapping her arms around Eri from behind, snuggling her closely.

Shinsou stiffened, but his hand remained at his side, instead of reaching for the knife Eraserhead knew was still tucked into his jeans. “Emi, if you don’t mind-”

“I mind!” Ms. Joke said with a pout. “I’m taking the kids and leaving you! Sayonara! May you never break my heart again!”

She held up the angry face for an impressive two seconds before bursting out laughing again.

“How could I be mad at that adorable face! Come along, my sweet children! Auntie Emi and Auntie Kayama have a lot of gifts for you at our super-duper fun-terrific dorm room! We have plans to spoil you rotten and never ever give you back!” Emi called, Eri already trailing at her heels while Shinsou stiffly followed.

Aizawa glared at the cardboard box, already making plans to destroy it, before he looked up to do a quick headcount.

17 expulsion forms. That seemed like too much work.

“Those of you who are wearing unlicensed hero merchandise, head to Gym Gamma. The rest of you are lucky .”

•

"Why…" Shitty Hair pants, struggling to keep pace with Bakugo. Dumb fuck needed to work on his cardio instead of obsessing over bulking up. "Why...are you here...bro? You're safe… from the madness."

'The Madness' takes another victim, Deku screeches before he hits the sparring mat, and Shitsei starts looking around for an extra that isn't keeping pace with the laps they're supposed to be running. 

He might be seeing shit, but it looks like Ojiro deliberately slows down.

"Got business with Sensei," Bakugo explains, while Aoyama gets called to the center of the Hell Blender to face Aizawa in a quirkless match. "You talk to that purple haired fuck yet?"

"Shinsou, yeah," Kirishima answers, oddly defensive. "Last night."

"Got business with him too," Bakugo growls, passing Sato again. "Ojiro knock his fucking head on straight or what? Fucker doesn't even look at the chat, don't know why he's fucking in it-"

"Bro," Shitty Hair starts slowing down, and Bakugo forces himself to match the pace. "You worried about Shinsou? Even after the-"

"FUCK OFF! I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THAT CREEP!" Bakugo snarls, but the dumb shit surgically attached to his hip just grins that dumb fuck smile.

"Aw, Bakubro! I know you care, in your own super manly way- wait! Come on!" Bakugo is done with his shit. He can get splattered on the mat by Sensei for all he cared. "He talked to me and Ashido! Like, normal talk! Kind of."

Finally, he was going to be useful. "Did you fight him?"

"What? No! He was making apple bunnies for Eri, you can't just-"

"Was he doing that creepy fucking cuddle thing with the brat?" Aoyama starts swearing in French, like he thinks no one else knows what he's saying. It's honestly fucking poetry.

"Uh, holding her? Like you do with a cute kid like Eri? Yeah, he was," Kirishima looks to the middle of the blender again, shaking his head. "You wanna go to my room after this? Some stuff came up and… I dunno, could use your Baku-brain for it."

"Talk now, I got shit to do after this bullshit," Bakugo barked. "And keep the fucking pace! You're gonna be a shit hero if you get winded this fucking easy! Fucking sack of bricks."

Shitty Hair just grins.

*

Aizawa was not a young man anymore. He was tired long before his students seemed suitably winded, and he dismissed all but one of them.

Ojiro seemed to think he was being held back for some delayed punishment for the sparring session he had with Shinsou, rigidly watching as Aizawa took a slightly longer water break than he would have otherwise. That much was punishment enough.

The tension flowed out of him when he was called onto the mat, tail flicking between excitement and nerves.

Their styles were well balanced against each other. Ojiro could be swift where he needed to be, but the kid could hit hard where it counted. Aizawa learned to dodge first, second, and third, before he sized up an opening worthy of the risk, and to finish the fight right there.

Ojiro was good, but he was still learning. The boyish grin on his face every time he peeled himself off the mat told Aizawa he knew that, and wasn't bothered by it in the slightest.

“Your blocks are too rigid. You need to learn to adjust in proportion to your opponent’s weight,” Aizawa tells him, as he tries to ignore Ojiro’s tail, now in a full wag. “I’m not as slow as Sato or Shoji, so as soon as you counter me, you need to go right into your next move.”

“Yes, Sensei!”

Aizawa’s ankle stings the next round, but Ojiro learns quickly. “Train with Uraraka more often. Your sessions with Hagakure don’t seem to be helping you.”

Ojiro startles, the beginning of a blush working up to his ears, different from the flush from exertion. “Yes, Sensei. I know they both could use some more-”

“Not for them,” Aizawa cuts off. “You only train seriously with your heavier classmates, and as I already said, it affects your technique. Avoiding Uraraka because she takes advantage of your skillset doesn’t benefit you in the long run. Either work out a more balanced way to spar, or refer her to me, and I will be the one to remind her that you are a student, not a member of staff.”

Ojiro looks horrified to imagine that confrontation, though it would honestly play out like this one. “I’ll talk to her, Sensei! It was probably my own fault for not being direct with her, or the others.”

Aizawa nods, estimating that he probably has just enough time to collect his wards from Nemuri and Emi before he passes out from exhaustion. Even if he no longer has patrols, sparring with Ojiro after 16 matches with his students was beyond his limit.

“Sensei, I’m not sure if I should ask, but,” his student glances to the side. “Is Shinsou alright? He spoke after hitting his head-”

“He was cleared by Recovery Girl without any serious injuries,” Aizawa answers. “You didn’t cause any permanent damage.”

“I know, but,” Ojiro says, turning to him for a moment before looking away again. “Perhaps I’m not asking how he is physically.”

Aizawa paused, considering his answer. His students didn’t deserve a lie that didn’t serve them, but they also didn’t need to know the details of Shinsou’s case. Though he could repeat himself over and over, his students were latching on to Shinsou in their own, protective way. A way he would be proud to see - his students taking the idea of the Hero’s Mantle seriously enough to want to protect both of the wards of UA, while some fully fledged heroes would only pose with one of them long enough to secure a bump in rank.

But Shinsou’s mental health wasn’t a class project, Bakugo being an unfortunate exception, though Bakugo could relate far more than the rest of the class. They only needed to know the bare minimum, which he should have covered more explicitly than telling them that Shinsou was unlikely to talk to them.

“Shinsou is selectively mute, but he wasn’t prior to the rescue,” Aizawa answers, lifting his hair from his neck as he wished he had a hair tie to keep it up. “In certain situations, he seems to be able to speak. You triggered one of those situations.”

Ojiro shuffles his feet nervously, something deeper than guilt surfacing. “Sensei, when I grabbed his hair… Shinsou made this noise.” 

Aizawa stares at his student. He needs to know for the investigation, and to dig out whatever unsettled Ojiro so thoroughly. But the naked pain and twist of confusion on his student’s face makes him want to cover it back up and hope that Ojiro forgets it in time.

“It sounded like...a dog. A bark.”

Aizawa struggles not to betray the horror he feels, for Ojiro to witness that, for Shinsou to do that.

There were wounds that were too deep for Shinsou to hide when he began to dissociate. Aizawa had noticed them, catalogued them into his reports, discussed them with Hizashi late at night. Naomasa’s paperwork noted that there were times after the force feeding that Shinsou would make a whining sound, similar to an animal in pain. His eyes still unfocused, body still shaking. That unnatural sound unnerving enough to be conveyed in Naomasa’s usually terse reports.

But Aizawa knew that Shinsou had been trained to do that, Chisaki doing far more than naming him after an animal, to attempt to make him one. “Ojiro,” Aizawa says, though he has no idea what he could possibly say to comfort his student right now. “That is something I cannot discuss with you due to the circumstances of Shinsou’s case.” It would be better if you could learn to forget these things now, rather than after you graduate.

Ojiro nods, pulling a mask of determination on after he winces at the memory one last time. “Thank you for your time, Sensei.”

Aizawa takes a moment to just stare at the empty gym while Ojiro leaves, wanting to avoid any more questions that could come up from one of his students.

When he opens the door, he’s faced with that exact scenario in the worst way. “He’s not fucking mute.”

Aizawa does not have the patience left for Bakugo, stepping around the teen as though he’s just an unfortunate obstacle in his path, rather than a nightmare of determination and terrifying intelligence when he wants to be.

“I read all the shit I could find on that selective mutism bullshit, and it doesn’t fucking line up,” Bakugo growls, stalking after him. “Even with voice quirks being fucking weird when they’re mute, he talks too damn much when he shouldn’t. He talked to me during the fight, he talked to Ojiro, he fucking spewed some bullshit last night about some villain school, and now dumbass Kaminari thinks we should find that school and do an exchange program or some shit-”

“What is your point?” Aizawa grates, finding that ignoring the problem is more exhausting than it’s worth.

“It’s his quirk that’s fucked,” Bakugo answers. Aizawa closes his eyes for a moment, regretting that he allowed himself to forget that Bakugo was too perceptive to be involved in any aspect of Shinsou’s case. That he aimed the student’s terrifying focus on it unwittingly when he assigned the Trauma Project. “If he was mute, he’d only talk when he’s comfortable or some shit. And he wasn’t fucking comfortable with me trying to beat the shit out of him.”

“He was,” Aizawa muses aloud, something that clicked into place after the shock passed, now knowing why Bakugo had been so insistent that Shinsou wasn’t mute after the fight. He hadn’t been speaking to Ojiro, locked in another place and time. His conversation with Ashido and Kirishima either due to Eri’s presence, the shock of seeing himself from a more normal time, or both. But speaking during a fight was easy to explain. “A hostile situation like that is far more familiar to Shinsou.”

He was comfortable in a fight. It was something he could understand, interactions far more easily understood than peaceful cohabitation at the dorm, or the students of UA’s friendly gestures. The only thing more familiar to Shinsou than being with Eri was being in a fight for his life.

Bakugo hesitates, and for a moment, Aizawa can believe that this situation has blown over. That perhaps his student will simply complete the project as Aizawa had hoped he would, delving into a deeper understanding of his own trauma rather than focusing on Shinsou’s.

“I want to talk to him,” Bakugo states, a request surprising in how devoid of swears it is. “For that bullshit project.”

His pause only makes the explanation less believable. Aizawa sighs. “Don’t. Interact-”

“Bullshit,” Bakugo interrupts. “He needs that social interaction bullshit from the rest of the extras, that’s why you brought him to UA. I don’t give a shit about that, I just want to prove that I’m right. He’s not mute, it’s his quirk that’s fucked up.”

Aizawa stops and turns, Bakugo unwavering under his stare, chin still jutted out in self-assurance. He truly believes it. “If Shinsou agrees to speak to you, I will allow it for the purposes of your project. If he explicitly agrees verbally, or through sign language.”

Bakugo turns to the side with a hiss, but Aizawa doesn’t miss how his eyes narrowed at the words ‘sign language.’ He knows that Bakugo knew very little sign, and suspected it was still a denial of the risks associated with his quirk that he refused to learn more. It was a battle to make sure his student included ear plugs in his hero costume requests to the Support Department, and he knew Bakugo didn’t always wear them.

One of these days, Present Mic would have to sit down with Bakugo and explain that childish denial wouldn’t protect him from the realities of his chosen career. That Bakugo would be lucky to retire with some hearing ability left, if he hadn’t started to lose it already, given how often the teenager shouted. That he would be fully deaf before he graduated if he didn’t take serious precautions now.

“Fine! The creep is at your place, right?” Bakugo asks, and Aizawa feels the exhaustion double, nearly ready to buckle to the ground and convince himself that Nemuri could keep the wards for a few more hours while he took a nap on the campus grounds.

“Monday. Do not interact with Shinsou until then,” Aizawa grates out, barely able to keep his eyes open as he drags himself towards the teacher’s dorms. He’s too tired to be properly relieved that Bakugo storms off towards the student dorms, growling a few choice words but otherwise agreeable to his stipulation.

*

Aizawa knew that he couldn’t compare to the years of wardship experiences that Kayama and Emi had. He wasn’t a prideful man, he was a rational one. The math simply worked in their favor.

But he still didn’t expect to see Eri smiling as she ran into his legs, screaming his nickname so loudly that for a moment, she looked like a normal 5 year old girl, and nothing like the child still haunted by her experiences even at the best of times.

Even Shinsou seemed surprisingly relaxed, glancing at him just long enough to do his usual pat-down, before turning back to the television to watch some show about a cat behaviorist. Sushi was curled in a ball in his lap tightly enough for him to know that the cat had made himself comfortable there hours ago. That was surprising, as Sushi had begun to get a little crotchety in his old age, and didn’t typically warm up to strangers so quickly. Perhaps the cat had sensed Shinsou was a kindred spirit in that way.

Perhaps Emi or the cat had been able to give Shinsou something that Aizawa didn’t know how to give, and his chest ached at the thought.

“Aw! Can’t we keep them? Please please please?!” Emi begged, hands pressed together in front of her face. “They’re little angels, Shouta! Look at them! Don’t you think Eri needs a little halo and wings? I do! I think you need to dress her more appropriately for how angelic this sweet little girl is!”

Eri posed, fingers pointing to her smile, more strained and attempted under the scrutiny or slight embarrassment, but it was still nearly too much to bear. Aizawa knew there was going to be a costume from Emi on their doorstep in the future, and he hoped that Hizashi would be able to stand the sight of it.

“And darling Shinsou! Sushi is just in love! I’m in love! I’m going to keep him!” Emi declared, crossing her arms as she pouted in determination. “Shinsou is just too sweet to tell you, but I’m going to tell you that he deserves to be with me, so I can give him all the cats in the world! It’s nothing less than what he deserves, I tell you!”

Aizawa almost agrees, to call her bluff and hope it isn’t a bluff, but he sees the way Shinsou’s hand freezes and pulls away from Sushi, laid back on the couch. Emi’s words could be taken in a different context, one that Shinsou is intimately aware of. Not the playful kind of exchange that Emi meant, but an exchange of ownership. “There’s a cat cafe nearby. We should visit it at some point.”

Shinsou glances at him out of the corner of his eye, but Aizawa is distracted by Eri pressing her face against his legs, hands clutching tighter onto his pants. “But cats are scary,” she whines, and Aizawa looks up to Emi for a very necessary explanation.

Emi tilts her head, smiling nervously. “Sushi wasn’t in the best mood today. He got a little spooked at first, but we did get to pet him when he settled down, right Eri?”

Eri nodded, turning to stare at Sushi as she pressed herself closer to Aizawa out of fear. “But I don’t want to scare the cafe cats! That’s mean!”

Before Aizawa can explain, Shinsou speaks first. “Cafe cats are socialized to not get scared, Eri,” the purple haired teenager says, pointing at the television. “Remember that episode? Cafe cats are really friendly, and they don’t get bothered by loud noises or strangers. They know that good things happen when they’re working, so they don’t get scared.” Shinsou rests his hand on Sushi’s back, stroking with short movements that stop when the cat rolls over to present his stomach, a temptation Aizawa has earned many scratches from taking. “Sushi just hasn’t been around a lot of kids, so he got scared. He didn’t mean it, though. I know he’d like you if you spent a lot of time with him.”

“I think you should,” Kayama says, smiling as she watches Shinsou interact with her cat, sitting at the low table in the middle of the room that has at least three coloring books and two board games splayed chaotically on top. “My door is always open for a Sushi date. The poor old man probably gets lonely, so it would be doing me a favor.”

Aizawa is still shocked that Shinsou asked a question and didn’t panic, didn’t even seem to realize that he had asked it. “I’ll ask beforehand, so you’re not interrupted from any other type of date.”

Kayama gives him a Cheshire grin, but she always behaves herself in front of a ward. “I think Yamada came back an hour ago, but he might have been too busy working on lunch to drop by. We’ve only had a few snacks today.” The subtle wag of her finger as she glances towards Shinsou tells Aizawa that he didn’t eat at all.

“We should see what he’s making then,” Aizawa says, ignoring the growl from his own stomach as he tries to maneuver the wards into returning to their own dorm, though he knows the fun they’ve had with Emi and Kayama makes the departure harder.

“Aw! But I’m going to miss them!” Emi whines, crouching down to hug Eri close. “Can’t I just put Eri in my pocket and carry her around with me everywhere?”

Eri giggles at the mental image, turning around to squeeze Emi in a hug that makes her groan as though the 5 year old could actually press the air out of her lungs. “Emi, you’re silly! But I like you!”

Emi looks up with a desperate pout, actually seeming to tear up with those words. “I like you too, Eri! I like you a lot! I’m definitely going to steal you again! It’s going to be Emi and Eri, just like it was meant to be!”

“Eri and Emi! Emi and Eri!” Eri chants, as Shinsou gingerly guides Sushi to curl up on the couch, stroking his head in an attempt to keep him settled. 

Eri is brave enough to walk over to Kayama and give her a hug as well, which Kayama returns while she sends a sly look to Aizawa, one that threatens to steal the wards away more often in the future. She even gives Sushi a shy little pet, jumping back when he stretches towards her, and she runs back to the safety of Aizawa’s legs.

Neither Aizawa nor Shinsou expect Emi to step in front of Shinsou as he moves to follow Eri, tucking her arms around his waist. Aizawa stiffens as he watches Shinsou’s flinch, his arms jerking upwards but stuck in the air rather than throwing the hero off of him. “I’m going to miss you too, buddy!” Emi says, muffled as her face is pressed against Shinsou’s hoodie.

There’s clear panic on Shinsou’s face, to the point that Aizawa is ready to walk over and pull Emi away himself, but he’s frozen as he watches it slip away. He watches Shinsou’s eyes start to close, resting back into that blank and neutral calm, his arms lowering, fingers twitching for a moment before he surprises Aizawa completely.

He puts his arms around Emi, wrapped around her shoulders, then closes his eyes and relaxes, tension flowing out of him with an audible exhale. Aizawa can hear Emi’s hand moving in circles against the fabric of Shinsou’s hoodie, tracing the pattern soothingly over his back. His shoulders slump in response, leaning further into the hug. His lips betray a twist of pain before the moment ends, and he straightens up, slipping the blank mask back on but for the wideness still set in his eyes, not quite panic but something close.

Emi just beams at him, pulling away and allowing the teenager to follow Eri back to their dorm, which appeared to have been opened by Hizashi judging by the sound of Eri’s excited recounting of the day’s events.

Aizawa looks to Kayama and Emi for their own retelling, and he’s surprised to see Emi’s fingers tighten around her arm as she refuses to meet his eyes, frowning. “You've got a hard one on your hands, Eraserhead," Emi mutters, unnervingly devoid of her usual cheer.

"You seemed to make a difference," Aizawa notes, wondering what Emi had seen apart from the vast improvements in the wards behaviors that could have caused the concern now apparent on her face.

"Now, now! I won't let the two of you be grumpy Guses!" Kayama complains, leaning over to pull a canvas bag closer to herself from where it was leaning against the TV stand. "This is the one, right?"

Emi nods, taking the book that Midnight hands to her from the bag, and presents it to Aizawa with a flourish. "TA-DA! The key to understanding Shinsou, written in a book easy for you to understand!"

'Loving Your Feral Cat' was the title, though Aizawa read it several times over, sure that his sleep-deprived brain was misreading it. "I've had a feral cat before. Shinsou is nothing like-"

“ ‘There are very few truly feral cats in Japan,’” Emi reads, finding the page she wanted quickly enough for Aizawa to know she has read this book several times over. “ ‘You may assume your cat’s skittishness must be an aspect of their personality, because a cat’s emotions can be hard to perceive to the untrained eye. But in truth, your cat lives in terror of a world strange and unfamiliar, unable to understand that there are things that seem threatening, like yourself, that are not. Your cat has never learned that your hand is held out to comfort, or that your presence means no harm.’”

If Shinsou had learned those things, it was long forgotten beneath years of living the way he had. “Why did you hug him if you knew that?” Aizawa asks, far more interested to know if there was a way Shinsou could stand a less aggressive form of touch and not react poorly.

“It was a challenge line,” Emi answers, and the cat behaviorist says the same term in the pause that she takes to close the book. “And it was a lot of work to get to that point. I don’t think he’s ready for you to try it quite yet, but the book will explain it much better than I can.”

Aizawa takes the book, frowning as he remembers his conversation with Ojiro. Even if their intentions could not be more different, Aizawa was loathe to see Shinsou compared to an animal. He was loathe to do anything like Chisaki had.

But that wasn’t a rational response. He asked for Emi and Kayama’s advice, and they had given it in the form of this book. If there was anything useful to be learned from it, he would simply have to read it and see.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” Midnight said, leaning forward to play with the neckline of her sweater. “I didn’t exactly invite Emi over for a PG rated weekend.”

“Babe,” Emi whines, holding her blushing cheeks. “You can’t say those kind of things to my future husband. He must think I’m a loose woman.”

Midnight chuckle, her tone of voice growing more sensual. “Oh, I can tell him exactly how-“

Aizawa shuts the door behind him before he has to hear any more of their flirting, unwilling to become a victim to their twisted idea of foreplay.

Not when he was sober, and married.


	17. Chapter 17

Even if it had scarcely been a day since the last time they had been in the same room together, Yamada had missed his husband and their wards fiercely. He enjoyed hearing about everything he had missed from Eri, and was so enraptured by her recap of the Checkers match where she soundly defeated Midnight that he almost missed Shinsou eating all of his lunch, something that had become a rarity over the past few days.

Unfortunately for him, Shouta was only able to remain conscious as long as it took to eat his serving, dragging himself to the couch afterwards to collapse into a well earned nap. He was quickly joined by Eri, who never missed an opportunity to nap with Shouta, and seemed a bit wiped out by all the fun besides.

That left Yamada with the unpleasant task of presenting Shinsou with the new laptop he picked up from Naomasa, without betraying anything that could make the teenager suspicious of it.

“The phone is pretty handy to have, but I like using a laptop for more intensive stuff, like doing any research or watching videos,” Yamada explains, turning the computer on as Shinsou watches as his side. “I can show you a few HeroTube channels that teach JSL - Oh! We should definitely set up an account on that, so they’re easier to find.”

‘ Lot of A-C-C-O-U-N-T-S.’ Shinsou signs with a half frown, the closest thing to a complaint Yamada thinks he’s ever communicated.

Yamada laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s the digital age. Social media is a hard thing to keep track of. I make it look easy, but between three different accounts on every media platform in existence, sometimes I just want to throw my phone off a cliff and hide under a rock for a few days.”

Shinsou frowned, his hand placed over his pocket where he kept his phone. Perhaps the HeroTube account should wait until the teenager wouldn’t see it as a responsibility.

“So, I’m not sure how familiar you are with the Internet, but it’s a pretty neat thing,” Yamada says, pulling up the browser as he convinces himself that this deception is necessary. He knew it was for Shinsou’s own best interest, but he disliked lying to Shinsou, suspecting that he had earned a bit more trust from the teen than any other adult in his life. “Let’s say I forgot where my radio station is. I can just type the name or anything I remember about it into this little bar right here, hit send, and looky there! Now I’ve got the address, the website, and if I look at the ‘Images,’ I can even see my promo pictures!”

Even the cheesiness of his advertisements couldn’t dampen Shinsou’s apparent curiosity. His eyes were widened, leaning a bit closer to the screen. Before the guilt could become clear in Yamada’s face, regretting that he hadn’t left the laptop for Shouta who had a far better poker face, Shinsou’s hands raised up to sign. ‘ Today Music.’

Yamada groaned, leaning back against the chair. “Do you have any nicknames for Midnight or Ms. Joke at least? I can’t be your favorite person to pick on.”

‘ I do ,’ Shinsou answered, then tapped on the screen, pointing to the picture of his latest billboard mock-up. ‘ Today. Music. ’

“Oh!” Yamada cried, slapping a hand over his mouth. “That’s right! My radio show is tonight, and I never told you about it! Every week I go on the air and play music for my listeners. Some nights I interview other heroes, or I have a little Q and A session, or give out advice for people who call in. And some nights I have to cancel, and Byte Sound takes over for me.”

Yamada wonders if he should text his sidekick now so that the wards could stay home rather than being dragged to the dorms with Shouta again. Eri never seemed to mind, in fact she looked forward to the dorm nights. On those nights she received all the attention she wanted from the hero students that were always ready to make her snacks or organize a movie marathon in the common area. But Shinsou was a very different story. He hadn’t even been at UA a full week, and had been through enough stressful events to deserve staying home for a month.

“I could stay in tonight, though. Byte already has the playlist made up, and I don’t have anyone scheduled to call…” Yamada tapered off, pulling out his phone to confirm his worries. “Shoot, Hawkes.”

Hawkes had been a nightmare to schedule. After months of back and forth and hundreds of noncommittals, Present Mic had finally caved and involved Tokoyami to pressure the Number 3 hero to give him a real date and time, and he finally promised he would call in tonight after 10.

Interviews were the one thing that Byte Sound refused to do. Though she was fully deaf, her quirk allowed her to hear the electronic pulses that passed through the station’s equipment, often faster than the human ear could process. She technically could do an interview and use their more professional text to speech program to ask questions or comment, but she hated being on the air, adamant that she just didn’t have the personality to carry a show.

Shinsou must have noticed his worry, signing, ‘ It’s fine. I don’t know. Hero. D-O-R-M. ’

“Yeah, you guys are supposed to go to the Class 1-A dorms tonight. Shouta has to be there on the weekends,” Yamada answered, not quite pleased that Shinsou had learned how to avoid asking questions in sign language as well. “But Shouta always tunes in to my show! You should tell me what song you want to hear, and I’ll make sure to play it just for you, with a shout out and everything!”

Hopefully Shinsou’s song request would be a bit easier to work in than Eri’s. He never failed to deliver on any song she picked out for him to play, but the station manager hadn’t been pleased by the amount of complaints his audiophile fan base had filed after the second week of Baby Shark. He hadn’t made the situation any better by going on a mini-rant on Twitter about how people who take the term ‘good music’ to disavow others who enjoy any form of music that pleases them are idiots who don’t understand that art can never be quantifiably good.

It might have been easier to just tell them that an adorable 5 year old girl had struggled for weeks to tell him what her favorite song was, and the first night he played it was the first time he made her smile. But Shouta was extremely against the idea. With the popularity of his radio show, the media would speculate what his relationship to this 5 year old girl could be, bringing dangerous and undue attention to their ward if she was ever discovered in the media frenzy. He would never want to bring Eri into the spotlight, with her quirk being dangerous in the wrong hands and her life being stressful and bizarre enough without paparazzi on her heels, but on a more selfish level, he didn’t want to answer the questions that would inevitably come up.

Who was Eri to him? In truth, his answer wasn’t a professional one. Eri wasn’t just a ward to him, and he knew that she wasn’t just a ward to Shouta. There was a line that wasn’t meant to be crossed in wardship cases, one that Kayama had warned them to keep for both their sakes. There was a level of attachment that was to be expected, and another that would only cause heartache when the wardship was dissolved.

He hadn’t brought it up to Shouta yet. Each time he thinks to, he remembers that it’s only been a month, that he really shouldn’t be thinking this way so soon. But he wants to make sure that if the wardship was dissolved, that Eri would stay with them.

That he could call her his daughter out loud, instead of trying to keep himself from even calling her his daughter in his head.

Shinsou seemed to be getting more frustrated as he tried to come up with a song, hands rising to sign only to drop back to his sides with a frown. Yamada decided to change the subject for him, despite how eager he was to know what kind of music Shinsou liked. “You don’t have to pick tonight, though! But if any of my tunes catch your fancy, be sure to let me know! I need to make sure my music still appeals to the youth, after all. But, let’s get back to this laptop business. This is how you get to HeroTube, oh wonderful wealth of cat videos that it is.”

Shinsou might have tried to hide it, but Yamada had lived with enough avid cat fans to spot one a mile away. After showing him the JSL channel and an English one, he started pulling up cat video after cat video, pleased to earn that wide-eyed look of adoration and even a few ‘ Cute ’s after he taught him that sign.

Before he knew it, the clock was telling him that he needed to wake up Shouta to make sure he didn’t sleep through his dorm shift, leaving Class 1-A unsupervised to wreak untold amounts of havoc. “You guys still have a few hours before you have to go back to the dorm, but I need to make sure Shou wakes up before I leave.”

Shinsou seemed to waver for a moment, staring at the laptop with what he hoped was a Google-able question that could help with the investigation, but instead he followed Yamada to the living room.

Yamada noticed that Shinsou seemed to trail after him quite a bit as he fixed Eri a small snack and woke Shouta up repeatedly. It made him wonder if Shinsou had missed him as much as Yamada knew he would miss him tonight. Several times, Yamada pulled out his phone, determined to call Byte Sound to take over for just one night, and deal with the fallout tomorrow.

But in the end, he found himself struggling not to ruffle the teenager’s hair or pull him into a hug as he tells his little family goodbye, knowing those actions would only pull the worry from Shinsou’s face in the worst way.

‘ Goodbye, Loud Noise, ’ helps with his separation anxiety just a little.

*

Aizawa loved his husband. He truly did, and he knew that he didn’t show it nearly enough.

He just hoped that he didn’t give Hizashi a heart attack with that last message.

Hizashi always responded to his texts immediately while he was doing his show, unless there was a technical issue or he was on the air. But the music had been playing with no commentary breaks or issues in sight, and what he thought had been a teasing text message was beginning to look like the last thing Hizashi saw before he died.

Finally, the reply came in.

Zashi: babe ARE YOU SERIOUS???

Zashi: I AM PLAYING SUCH SHITTY MUSIC YOU CANNOT

Zashi: I AM FREAKING OUT A LITTLE I HAVE NOTHING PREPARED I

Shou: A little?

Zashi: PLEASE TELL ME HE LIKED SOMETHING SO I CAN MAKE A NEW PLAYLIST OFF OF THAT

Zashi: THE FIRST REAL SONG SHINSOU HEARD WAS A SHITTY TOP 40 MY MANAGER INSISTED ON I AM CRUSHED I HAVE FAILED

Aizawa glanced at the screen’s reflection, but as he suspected, Shinsou wasn’t giving him any indication whether he liked the song or not. He certainly wasn’t disinterested, his head tilted slightly so that he could hear the music better, his eyes a bit wider than usual. But he had worn that same expression since the show began, and after cycling through almost every music genre, Aizawa realized it.

Shinsou hadn’t heard this kind of music before.

To Aizawa, it wasn’t surprising. After all that had been denied to Shinsou, he doubted that any of his previous organizations would let him explore his taste in music in between rounds of torture. He thought that telling Hizashi his suspicions would make his husband a bit flustered, but make the night a little easier to work through. He knew that Hizashi had been dragging himself to the radio station, obviously wanting to stay home with them, and thought that changing his playlist up a bit to accommodate his ward would help him feel more connected to them.

This was a bit beyond that.

Shou: He doesn’t seem to hate anything so far.

Zashi: babe ilu but not hating is not enough right now

Zashi: He looks like he likes Morrissey maybe? BUT I’M NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE BABE HEEEEEEEELP

Shou: He probably hasn’t heard enough music to form an opinion.

Zashi: OH GOD I’M FORMING HIS TASTE IN MUSIC I CAN’T DO THIS SHOU

Shou: You’ve been a radio personality since you were 20. I think you’re more qualified to form his taste in music, if that’s a possibility, than anyone else.

Zashi: Did he tell you????

Shou: No. It’s just an assumption. I could be wrong.

Zashi: Ur never wrong!

Zashi: mute me next break?

Aizawa tried not to roll his eyes, pulling out the bluetooth headphones he had started stashing in the Safe Room desk. Though Hizashi had started censoring his program a bit more since Eri started listening, he would still request that Aizawa mute certain live portions or bawdy English songs that his station manager insisted on playing. He had a suspicion that wasn’t the case in this instance.

Shou: Ready. Don’t give away any information about Shinsou.

Zashi: How do you know me so well babe??? It’s a little creepy

Shou: You asked your fans to build a wedding playlist instead of doing it yourself.

Zashi: I NEEDED SUGGESTIONS IT HAD TO BE PERFECT!!!!!

Shou: That’s how I knew.

Zashi: 30 sec!

Aizawa tucked one of the headphones in his ear, hand hovering over the audio output menu to switch the devices as he counted down the seconds. He was a bit off, but the record scratch was all the warning he needed to know that his husband was about to start talking.

He heard Eri start to explain to Shinsou that sometimes the radio goes quiet for a while so that Yamada can eat a snack, a white lie that Aizawa had come up with on the spot, too exhausted at the time to properly explain that there were certain things that she wasn’t old enough to hear. Shinsou seemed to accept that, turning back to his phone with a frown, before he let Eri take it over to check on their monster game.

“Helloooo listeners,” Present Mic drawled as the jingle for his commentary break stopped. “This is your man of the hour, the voice hero when you’re in need, telling you to Get Your Hands Up! Week after week, year after year, we get together for our little chats, our moments, our love for music. I know my most devoted listeners already know tonight’s playlist by heart, but tonight, Get Your Hands Up! is going to do something we haven’t done in a while! We’re opening the phone lines for you, dear listeners, to send me some tunes for all of us to enjoy!”

Hopefully Hizashi cleared that with his station manager.

“I can hear my listeners asking, ‘Why?! Why would you change a set playlist, Present Mic, oh masterful DJ that you are!’ And to that I say, ‘Because I can!’ It’s my show, I’ll damn well do what I want on it!”

He definitely didn’t clear it. Hizashi was going to get a lot of angry phone calls over the next few days.

“But,” Hizashi starts to break through the Present Mic persona, his voice dropping a bit lower and becoming more even. “Listeners, you deserve to know the truth behind this decision. During the last music break, I got a call telling me that one of my listeners wasn’t just new to the show, this listener is new to music. My show is the first time he’s heard any music at all, and that…” Hizashi stops, pausing to collect himself. “That’s really humbling.”

Shouta finds himself smiling. It had been quite a while since he was able to hear Hizashi so clearly on this show, that side of Hizashi that few really got to know. A quieter, sweeter side that could be so vulnerable so easily. The Hizashi he fell in love with.

“I can’t play just any old song after hearing that, and despite being the Voice Hero himself, despite running this show for over 10 years, I can’t be the only voice this kid hears tonight. I want my listeners to not be listeners tonight, I want all of us, every fan of music that’s listening tonight, to reach out and welcome this kid to one of the most universal joys in this world. To share your favorite songs, the best songs you know. My audiophiles, my dedicated roadies, and every casual fan who knows what it feels like to listen to a song and have it get you , call in! Call in, tweet me, email me, I can send an intern up to the roof to look for smoke signals but we already have one posted at the fax machine! I want to hear you, listeners! Hear you reaching out through the airwaves!”

Present Mic rattled off all of his points of contact, his station number, all of his social media, and even his email and fax number. Hopefully his husband would pay his interns back with a well deserved pizza party after this.

“Now, there’s one song I know will start us off on the right foot! Not the left one, not the other left or the other right one! That lucky right paw that’s always waving goodbye to me with its squishy little toe beans - ‘Lovecats!’ ”

Shouta quickly turned the speakers back on, leaning forward with his elbow on the desk as he closed his eyes and listened, a smile tugging at his lips.

It wasn’t every night that Hizashi played his song for him.

*

Present Mic was about to lose it. From his station manager sending a parade of interns to his suite to shove memo after threatening memo under the door, to the snarky comments from a certain subset of former fans, to the overwhelming weight of running this show for Shinsou, Present Mic was about to lose it .

“ I just think it’s funny that you called me an elitist and now you want my help,” the smug little bastard on the other end of the call said, toying with the very last of Present Mic’s nerves. “ If you can’t pick your own music- “

“I’m sorry, not-listener! I think you missed the part of the program that explained what’s happening tonight! And you know what’s happening tonight?! Not you!” It was pretty hard to be a wordsmith when the voice hero could practically feel his blood pressure rising. Byte Sound raised an eyebrow at him from the other side of the glass partition, but he waved her off, signaling for the next caller in the queue. “Get Your Hands Up! You’re on the air, dear listener! What funky fresh beats are you bringing to this salad?”

Maybe he’s used that line already tonight, but between the panic and zero sleep he’s gotten the past two days, he really can’t bring himself to care. “ Oh, hi! Um, I’m a huge fan! I don’t really have a song picked, but I was going to see if my quirk would still work without seeing the little kid this show is for, if that’s okay. ”

Present Mic was intrigued by the young man who had called in. “Your quirk?”

“ It’s called Heartsong. When I look at a person, I can hear their favorite song, even if they haven’t heard it yet. I’m trying to get better at using it, but it doesn’t always work on someone I’ve never met. ”

Present Mic muted himself to squeal in delight. “WOW! I would love that, little listener! What an amazing quirk!”

“ Thanks! I really hope this works, though. Maybe if you tell me enough about him, I can start to hear it. ”

Present Mic hummed, scratching his head. “Well, I can’t tell you a whole lot, I’m afraid. His mom would get pretty mad if his secret identity was exposed.” 

Present Mic grinned to himself, finally getting a little vengeance for all of Shouta’s teasing since Eri came to live with them, which admittedly had made his mother henning worse. 

“I can tell you that he’s wicked smart. I mean, this kid picks up language like a fish to water. He’s a little shy, at least right now, but I know he has a wicked sense of humor just waiting to come out. And he loves his little sister, she’s his entire world. He absolutely dotes on her. He’s a sweet kid, and… it surprises me sometimes. He’s been through a lot, more than he ever should have, but this kid… He’s pretty amazing.” Present Mic shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of the morose state he’s found himself in. That kind of feeling didn’t belong on the airwaves right now, not tonight. Not for Shinsou. “And he loves cats!”

“ Okay! I can kind of hear something! It’s really faint, but I definitely know it ,” the listener hums, then snaps his fingers. “ Flash by Sajou no Hana! It’s really faint, though, and a little distorted. I really can’t be sure if it’s right- “

“Well, there’s only one way to find out!” Present Mic thanked his lucky stars that this was a song they had the rights to play. His station manager was already taking a huge chunk out of his paycheck to cover the fines he’d already wracked up on the recommendation of his listeners. “Stay on the line with me, my talented listener! I’m going to try my best to snatch you up before every disk jockey in Japan hunts you down!”

His listener did, and they ended up talking for quite a while, Byte Sound pulling songs from the Twitter tag without having to be asked to. The kid was a college student with dreams of being a professional discographer, and he certainly had talent for it. Even if the move to Mustafu would be a bit much for him now, Present Mic had enough industry connections to make sure the kid would be able to quit his unpaid internship at his university, and start working with the music pros. 

When he hung up, he got a scathing look from his sidekick, who signed, ‘ If you fire me, I’m leaking That Call. ’

‘ No! No! I would never! ’ Yamada quickly signed back, and it wasn’t just the fear of what would happen if certain snippets of a conversation he had with Shouta while under the influence of an embarrassing quirk got out to the masses. ‘ You’re my ears, Byte, I could never lose you! ’

Byte Sound rolled her eyes, but the little smirk told him she just wanted a little reassurance. She’d gone through a lot of rejection to finally find an agency that would take her on as a sidekick, but their loss was his gain. She had been instrumental in too many stakeouts for him to ever consider letting her go. ‘ Let me meet your son. ’

Present Mic choked on air, brain stuttering over her assumption. ‘ NOT SON! Ward! ’

Byte Sound pulled her lips between her teeth, smiling and nodding tightly. He could hear that disbelieving ‘Mmhmm’ through the soundproof glass. He could never let Shinsou meet Byte. His ward already bullied him enough, but with her bad influence? The sass would be unbearable.

But Byte went back to her duties, counting him down for another caller. He took a quick sip of lemon water and did a few arm stretches, trying to shake out the exhaustion. The live portion of the show would be wrapping up soon, the rest was just a few pre-recorded bits and pre-selected music. Even if he wanted to work through the night on his show like he used to, his brain was already too fried to give his listeners the quality content they deserved.

“Before I take the last caller, I just want to thank all the music lovers who came out and jammed out tonight. I can’t wait to check in with our newest listener to see what’s caught his fancy! Lucky last caller, Put Your Hands Up! You are live and on the air with the Voice Hero himself, Present Mic!” Yamada dragged out his name for effect, hoping it ate up a few more seconds of air time.

“ Lucky, ” a familiar drawl answered, and Yamada covered his face with his hands, realizing how close he had been to getting fired tonight. “ What a wild program you’ve had tonight. I kind of feel inspired by it, ya know? ”

“Aw, Hawkes, don’t make me blush!” Present Mic protested. “The Number Three hero complimenting me is bound to give me a bigger head! It might even get big enough to match my hair!”

“ It’s pretty deserved, ya know. I’ve enjoyed listening to all these people helping this kid out, except for those guys you pissed off on Tweeter, or whatever it is. ”

Present Mic fumbles to find something to say that isn’t a bird joke. That didn’t go over too well when Hawkes broke the top 20 ranking. “I hope you’ve heard a few songs that caught your fancy! I certainly have! I really should make Open Mic Night a regular thing!”

Hawkes huffs a laugh, “ I think you should. Before we do this interview thing, I’ve got a song request for ya. ”

“Well! Far be it for me to tell Hawkes the Winged Hero no! What’ll it be, my friend?”

“ Free Falling by Tom Petty, I know you don’t have to look for it too hard, ” Hawkes teases. Present Mic didn’t, but he would have had it already queued up if someone hadn’t been spiteful enough not to warn him who was on the line. Not that it was her job or anything. “ You know that’s my favorite, but be sure to tell me if the kid likes it too. ”

Present Mic found himself a little taken back by the sincerity that had snuck into the usually blasé hero’s words. He wasn’t going to be Number 2 for just any reason. Even if he didn’t show it much, Hawkes had a genuine desire to help others, more pure than a lot of heroes could claim. “Of course! I’ll be letting everyone know how we did next week, but I guess now that I have your number, you’ll be the first to know!”

“ I’ll hold you to that, ” Hawkes says with a chuckle, and thankfully stays silent on the line until he hears the beep to confirm that they’ve moved off the air. “ So, who’s the kid? You seemed pretty fired up about him, so I know he’s not any old randy. ”

Present Mic groans, realizing that his hero manager was going to have a field day trying to manage everyone else’s curiosity in that very answer. “My ward. Was I really that obvious? And Hawkes, I’ve got to apologize-“

“ Nah, I jerked you around a lot to get this set up. I don’t really care for the fanfare anyway, but let’s just call it even, ” Hawkes drawls, finally admitting that half of those infuriatingly vague responses were intentional, as he suspected. Even if the Winged Hero didn’t care for the pomp and circumstance that came with media, he didn’t have to make it harder to work with him. “ Heard a bit about him, thanks to a case I’ve got. Hope he’s doing better now. ”

“A bit,” Yamada answers. Better than the way he was in that interrogation room, but nowhere near where he deserved to be. “But I know it’ll get better.”

“ I’ll bet on it, ” Hawkes answers, sighing into the phone. “ You sure I can’t just take off after that? It’s such a nice night, and I know you hate background noises, so I can’t exactly stretch my wings and talk at the same time. ”

The offer was oh so tempting, and he had a feeling Hawkes already knew that. “I don’t know, maybe if I find someone else to fill the slot. I’ll let my people call your people, you know?”

Hawkes just laughed it off. “ Come on! We’re squarezies, right? ”

“Oh, we’re squarezies,” Present Mic answered, the memory of every missed call to his agency giving him enough spite to carry on. “But I can’t exactly let you slip away so easily now, little bird. Not after you were so hard to catch. But since you’re one of the few heroes I like chatting with, we’ll keep it short. Half an hour to go through the usual yadda, then we can just chatter til the clock runs out-“

“ Oh no, look at that, ” Hawkes says, full of false disappointment that Present Mic has heard far too many times to be fooled by. “ I’ve got an emergency in, like, 20 minutes. Do you think we should call it quits now or- “

“Fine,” Present Mic whined, the irritation fueling him burning out to fumes. “But stop giving me the run around, alright? I’m a hero, I get it, this part of the job sucks, so just work with me. I know I’m not as bad as the news anchor on channel 8.”

“ Pssh, no one is. I think half the pros she’s interviewed have tried to dig up an old shoplifting charge so they could haul her off the air and into a cell for a few days. ”

Present Mic might be one of them, but after listening to her try to tell him he couldn’t possibly be deaf if he was a radio show host, as though she knew anything at all about anything, no one could blame him.

Especially not Shouta, who ended up using an informant to find out about her little trips to a certain select club that she certainly didn’t want anyone to know about.

And if the future Number 2 hero’s song was the one that Shinsou liked, he’d certainly share that information with him.


	18. Chapter 18

When he first met Eri in that hospital room, the day after she had woken up from her feverish coma, she had shivered in fear, curling herself tight into a cocoon on her bed. Immediately, his mind drifted to too many rain soaked kittens he had rescued out of habit, and perhaps the familiar white shade of her hair in combination had pushed him to make his decision. He had long since learned that he couldn’t walk away with half-efforts in these situations, not anymore.

Aizawa knew how to act with Eri. He kept himself small, distant, his hands visible and his movements slow. His voice was soft as he introduced himself, as he explained her situation. Hearing that he was a hero was what drew her out, just like setting a warm saucer of milk down in front of a drenched kitten. The blankets fell slowly through their conversation, and he was able to approach little by little. By the end his open arm and side was the cocoon she nested herself in when a nurse startled her by entering the room.

Eri needed a safe place, a haven to return to when the world was too frightening or difficult to understand. He could make himself into that place, easily in spirit, though it was harder in practice. Aizawa had to learn how to make himself soft in ways no one had ever shown him, but Eri never noticed. She never seemed to see him flinch the first few times she played with his hair, or how stiffly he moved to return her embrace the first time she felt confident enough to initiate a hug, rather than ask for it.

But Shinsou was not a kitten. He was hardly a feral cat either. In that interrogation room, and sometimes after, the image of Eri held in Shinsou’s arms brought about another comparison entirely.

There was a wildness in his eyes at times, a slow dissection of how to stalk forward, to use his claws, to make a kill. It was something he didn’t blame Shinsou for knowing, the boy’s survival likely hinged on it more often than not. Shinsou had been a kitten years ago, but now Aizawa saw that he had been made into a predator.

When he was with Eri, there was a softness that belied that. A tigress curled around her cub. The affection between them made it easier to ignore how much more dangerous it would be to approach, especially when the tigress was as wounded and cornered as Shinsou.

Shinsou needed to learn a different level of trust, back to the very concept of the word. He needed to learn that safety and security even existed, before he could learn how to ask for it. There was a level of fear ever present inside Shinsou that was easy to compare to a feral cat, but Aizawa could never forget that Shinsou could be lethal if he wanted to be.

It was Aizawa’s job to make sure he was never in a situation where he felt he needed to be.

A situation like this one.

Shinsou was having a nightmare. It was clear in the twist of his mouth, the furrow in his brow. His hand was knotted in his own hair, making it easy to imagine what horrors were playing in his mind, even easier to know how to stop it. Aizawa could either wake the teenager or try to pull his hand away. He had done that plenty of times for Eri, pulling a blanket free from where it had wrapped too tightly around her, pulling her into his arms to cry it out afterwards.

He couldn’t do that for Shinsou. For Shinsou, any touch that wasn’t Eri’s was violence, and in his terrified state, he would react in kind, on instinct. He had the police injury reports in his case to prove it. Aizawa could deflect, he could restrain, but either strategy only ended with another comparison to Chisaki. Even with a good reason, he would be subduing Shinsou all the same.

Aizawa heard it when he opened and shut the desk drawer, a measure he hoped would wake either ward without his interference. Distorted behind closed teeth as it was, that noise was still unmistakeable. An imitation of a bark.

Aizawa moved to reach over Shinsou, to touch Eri’s leg to wake her. Asking a 5 year old to comfort her former caretaker was cowardly, but logical.

Shinsou woke her instead, gasping with his eyes too wide, fingers running over his face in a manner approaching habit. Seeing if the mask was gone, seeing if his hair was still matted. Then his violet eyes darted around the room, shoulders rising as he spotted Aizawa, but falling when Eri wrapped her arm over his chest, holding him tight. “M’ here, Twenny,” Eri mumbled, alarmed but not entirely awake.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Shinsou answered, apologies spilling out in panic as he moved his hand to cover hers where it lay on her shoulder, brushing it over the length of her arm. Shinsou seemed to freeze, staring as Eri sighed and began to fall back asleep. There was something in that stillness that reminded Aizawa of the way Eri used to freeze up and shrink when she wanted something, something she wasn’t sure she could ask for.

Shinsou needed something, something he couldn’t ask from Eri. Something Aizawa wasn’t sure he could offer, but the pain held behind Shinsou’s clenched jaw made him speak regardless. “Shinsou,” Aizawa would get better at not being hurt each time he was looked at with that kind of fear. “You’re okay now. It was a bad dream.”

Shinsou’s eyes darted between Aizawa and Eri, and Aizawa felt a bit too hopeful in thinking that Shinsou was considering him as a source of comfort now. Any port in a storm, perhaps. Shinsou moved his arm slowly, careful not to wake Eri as he pulled the trapped limb from beneath her, but he needed it to sign, ‘ E-R-I okay. ’

Aizawa nodded. “She’s been sleeping. No nightmares.”

Shinsou bit his lip, looking at Eri again. Still needing something, some comfort that Aizawa didn’t know how to give. ‘ Arm. ’ Shinsou made a fist after he signed it, shaking his head minutely. ‘ I am sorry. Will sleep. ’

“She will fall back to sleep if she wakes up,” Aizawa tells him, knowing that Shinsou knows that far better than he does, that Shinsou only needs some form of reassurance. Or permission.

It was enough. Shinsou took Eri’s arm and laid it back to her side, before rolling the sleeping child onto her back to expose her other arm. A quicker, more cursory brush of Shinsou’s hand finally let the kid relax, eyes falling closed before he pulled the blanket back over Eri.

Aizawa thought it had been a dream about the torture he went through at the 8 Precepts, one of the many that Sir Nighteye had listed when he asked for him to explain what he saw. He will be held under water by his hair, and if he doesn’t bark quickly enough for the torturer’s liking, he will be forced back under. This repeats 12 times. I believe the water is also treated with a chemical, as the other criminals complain about the smell before they…

‘ I am sorry. Will sleep. ’ Shinsou signs, and though Aizawa doubts he will do anything more than pretend to do so, he nods, keeping his gaze focused on the wall behind his ward.

“It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Aizawa answers, realizing the reason Shinsou hasn’t laid back down after. He was waiting for permission again. “Goodnight.”

The kid is pretty good at slowing his breathing down, taking longer breaths and hesitating before he exhales. That much would fool most into believing he’s asleep, but Aizawa knows better. He knows that Shinsou would twitch away from Eri’s arm thrown back over him if he was actually asleep, that he would curl closer to her afterwards.

Aizawa knows he won’t sleep. He doesn’t either, on nights that he wakes up and runs his own hands over Hizashi’s arms, his face, the back of his head. The Nomu didn’t break his arms, it didn’t dig its claws into his scalp, it didn’t crush his skull while Present Mic was pleading for him to stop it, to use his quirk when his quirk was useless against that monster.

He doesn’t know what caused the scars on Shinsou’s arms. The autopsy results on the less fortunate members of the Nomu organization were inconclusive, the best theory being that something had burrowed underneath the skin, tearing the flesh apart in its wake. The result of someone’s quirk, but they couldn’t be sure what type, whether it was a burrowing creature or a tendril forced under the skin.

That won’t be the first question they ask Shinsou, when the time is right. Aizawa wants to ask him what the real name of ‘the bad place’ is, and with any luck, his network of informants will be familiar with it, enough that the investigation will need little else from Shinsou.

Yamada has another question, one he wanted to ask since he heard Shinsou muttering in his sleep the first night he spent at the dorm. One that leads into another question if Shinsou actually answers it.

Who is ‘50’? And does Shinsou know that she’s dead?

*

Iida nods as Kirishima and Bakugo enter Yaoyorozu’s dorm room, completing the list of expected attendants. “Now that everyone is here-“

“Headphone bitch ain’t,” Bakugo growls, smirking at him. “You that fucking blind even with your glasses?”

“Jirou has another obligation, but she will be weighing in on the Class 1-A chat,” Iida answered, gesturing towards the rest of his peers, who were feeling quite cramped in such a small space. If he wasn’t the class president, he too would much prefer to be in his own dorm room, or on his usual morning run. He also thought that meeting in a place that wasn’t monitored by cameras was a bit paranoid, but too many had insisted on it.

In all honesty, he would much rather not have this meeting altogether, but the Class 1-A chat had demanded it.

“Now that we are all here, we should discuss our concerns about the message that Shinsou sent, and how we should respond to it,” Iida continued, taking note of the expressions he saw as he glanced at each young hero. Some were saddened, others concerned, and others had already jumped to conclusions, anger and betrayal clear on their faces. “And I think it would be best to keep in mind that the way Shinsou communicates is quite vague, and regardless, text messages can be very easy to misinterpret.”

“He seemed really worried, though,” Sato mumbles, offering an assortment of cinnamon rolls and doughnuts for Kirishima and Bakugo to take. “I mean, he could have just asked right off the bat, but since he took so long-”

“Isn’t it kind of weird that he didn’t ask, though?” Sero interjects, hand raising as if he were in class. “The way he worded it was like he was specifically trying not to ask a question.”

Midoriya startles, and Bakugo looms over him with a glare. “You know all this secret shit, Deku, so start fucking talking.”

Midoriya noticeably pales as he starts waving his arms in front of him, a nervous reaction that Bakugo rarely inspires these days. “I really don’t know anything! But I’ve noticed that too. He’s messaged me like that on our chat, but I don’t know why he does that. It might just be the way that he talks?”

“Does he talk about his feelings toward Aizawa and Present Mic in that chat?” Tokoyami asks, leaning around Shoji’s arm to look at Midoriya.

“We really haven’t talked that much, but he hasn’t mentioned them,” Midoriya answers. “But I really don’t think that they would do something to make him afraid of them.”

“Maybe he’s thinking of doing something he knows they wouldn’t like,” Hagakure says, the long sleeves of her pajamas crossed over her chest. “I mean, you wouldn’t worry about being punished if you weren’t doing anything wrong.”

Kaminari nods, hand cupped around his chin. “He did go to villain school, after a-“

“FUCK OFF!” Bakugo snarls, hands pulling at his own hair. “There isn’t a fucking villain school! Shitsou lied to you dumb fucks and you fucking bought it!”

“Dude, it makes sense!” Kirishima argued. “How could he take us down if he didn’t go to villain school to learn how to fight?”

“Wait, he really went to villain school?” Yaoyorozu asked, muttering to herself, “I thought I just didn’t know a new meme.”

“He did! He told us so,” Ashido confirms, crumbs still present around her mouth despite Yaoyorozu’s miming to tell the acid hero to wipe them away. “Since he was taken to villain school when he was 4, and he’s known Eri for 3 years, he must have been almost a middle schooler when he, um. Graduated, I guess.”

It was unnerving to see Ashido seem to shrink with those words, her usual exuberance disappearing in a flash. “Maybe he’s confused because that villain school was stricter?” Ojiro wonders aloud. “I mean, there are some things we get away with here that would get me in a lot of trouble at my former dojo.”

Bakugo hisses behind his teeth, swallowing a mouthful of doughnut before he speaks. “You forgetting about that Chisaki bastard? If he did shit to the brat, he did shit to the corpse.”

Iida felt now would be the time to offer his thoughts on the matter, judging by the way his peers’ faces had paled at the thought. “My brother did confirm that Shinsou would likely be confused by his new environment. Most wards are told what to expect as consequences to their actions, both as reassurance and to also decrease the likelihood of the ward reacting violently against their assigned hero in a str-“

“Wait, that really happens?!” Hagakure interrupts, hands making imprints on the comforter. “Wards just attack their heroes?”

“Well, not often!” Iida tries to reassure without outright lying. “It happens frequently enough that several policies are in place, and the certification process has become more stringent, but a major deciding factor in whether a hero is assigned to a ward is whether that hero could disarm a ward if that situation occurred. Midnight-sensei is one of the most in-demand heroes for wardship assignments in our region due to her quirk’s versatility.”

“Perhaps Shinsou’s quirk is similar to hers,” Todoroki muses, though he had seemed distracted throughout the meeting thus far. “If he speaks to you, he can force you to go to sleep, and has a resistance to her quirk as a side effect.”

“That’s not his....” Kirishima starts to speak, then cuts himself off, angling away from the outburst building in Bakugo’s vibrating frame.

“WHEN THE FUCK did you find out what his fucking quirk is?! And what fucking is it?! Maybe you should share that shit before the voices in dead eyes’ head tell him to kill!”

“Aizawa-sensei told us not to!” Ashido says, earning a death glare as Bakugo whipped his head to look at her. “Kirishima and I went to elementary school with Shinsou, so we know what his quirk is. And he can’t hurt anyone with it.”

“He could,” Kirishima disagrees, raising his hands in front of his chest as he realizes he’s captured the entire class’ attention. “I don’t think he will, though! And Sensei told us not to tell anyone! Me and Ashido would get expelled if we told you guys!”

“That’s kind of extreme, even for Sensei,” Uraraka comments, glancing at Asui before she sighs. “I know Aizawa-sensei is trying to keep us away from Shinsou, but expulsion seems a little harsh. Is his quirk really that bad?”

“More likely, he’s worried that we will try to make him use it, kero,” Asui says, looking at the rest of the class. “Since his quirk relies on his voice, that would mean forcing Shinsou to speak. Sensei believes we wouldn’t be able to control our curiosity, kero, perhaps for good reason.”

“It is super cool, though,” Ashido says, beaming as she speaks. “It kind of feels like-“

“ Ashido ,” Kirishima hisses, concern plain on his face. “C’mon, we can’t talk about it.”

Ashido pouts, collapsing back on the bed with her head landing in Hagakure’s lap. “AUGH! Tsu’s right, it’s just so interesting! I kinda want him to use it on me again to see if-“

“Ashido!”

“To see if it’s changed!” Ashido completes, turning to stick her tongue out at Kirishima. “But yeah, you guys might get freaked out if he used it and you didn’t know about it, so Sensei has a point.”

“Aizawa-sensei is probably more concerned with Shinsou’s mental well-being than our own surprise,” Yaoyorozu states, looking up from the messages she’s been sending to Jirou to keep her up to date on their conversation. “Pressuring someone with mutism to speak can cause them undue stress. And I think Sensei is right to worry that some of us would do that.”

“It’s dangerous for us not to know, though,” Hagakure says, bristling as she notices the looks she receives. “He almost broke Ojiro’s tail, and he didn’t even use his quirk! I don’t know if Shinsou is a nice guy or not, but I think that we should be more careful around him. He could be a villain for all we know, and just using Eri to get into UA. Maybe he even used his quirk on her and Sensei already.”

“Tooru, I don’t think-“

“TOORU?!” Ashido repeats, grinning with wide-eyed at Ojiro, who lashes his tail and looks away.

“I don’t think he’s… Well, he is dangerous, but I don’t think he’s a threat. And I don’t think we should treat him like one until he gives us a reason to,” Ojiro says, still avoiding Ashido’s stare.

“Seriously, we’re training to be pro heroes. If Shinsou freaks us out, then how can we say we deserve to be here?” Kaminari asks, earning a disdainful huff from Hagakure.

“Because he took down Bakugo, Sero, Ochako, and Iida, and almost did the same to Ojiro! Without his quirk! And he went to villain school!” Hagakure seems to shake her head with the way her hair tie moves in the air. “Maybe we shouldn’t just assume he’s here for the right reasons.”

“Likewise, we shouldn’t assume he’s here for the wrong ones,” Yaoyorozu states. “I think we should be more aware that Shinsou could be dangerous, but treating him that way without proof would be cruel of us. He already seems unhappy with how we’ve ignored him on the chat.”

Iida and several other students look to their phones to find several LNE notifications about user handles being changed. Iida has to disguise his laugh with a cough when the newest one appears, listening to Bakugo mutter a string of death threats under his breath. “I believe that brings us to the purpose of this meeting. How should we respond to Shinsou’s message when our situations are so different? Shinsou is not a student at UA, and would not be subject to any academic disciplines, but we do not know what kind of disciplinary structure our teachers plan to utilize at their home.”

“I don’t think they’d be strict,” Midoriya says, drawing more than his fair share of incredulous looks. “You know how Aizawa-sensei is around Eri, but when they’re out of class, it’s kind of… even more like that, you know?”

Todoroki is the only one who nods.

“Aizawa-sensei would be the disciplinarian, I would assume, kero,” Asui states. “Considering Present Mic-sensei’s personality.”

“He can be a little scary too,” Koda quietly adds, his fingers pressed together in front of him. “But I don’t think either of them would do something bad!”

“Jirou says that Present Mic would subject Shinsou to hours of awful music, and Aizawa-sensei would assign lengthy essays,” Yaoyorozu reads, looking up afterwards. “She also says that Present Mic-sensei has already punished Shinsou enough, and she won’t be leaving her room until she’s fixed it, but I haven’t been able to get her to explain.”

“Oh!” Midoriya exclaims, his fist meeting his open palm. “That must be why last night’s show was odd. The last Open Mic Night happened 9 years ago, and even then, it was announced well beforehand. Present Mic has never changed his set playlist so suddenly before, and his interview with Hawkes was later than it was scheduled for unknown reasons-“

“Did he fucking play that Nyan cat song because Shitsou did some stupid shit?” Bakugo asks, oddly devoid of anger.

“Non! It was a beautiful, touching moment, mon cher!” Aoyama says, leaning his elbows onto his knees. “L’amour de la musique va à celui qui ne l'a pas senti!”

“Yeah, That part was great,” Sero says, his smile strained as he looks up from his phone. “So, what? Do we tell Shinsou we don’t know or just tell him what we think will happen?”

“Or should we tell Aizawa-sensei, kero?” Asui asks, staring at Iida. “It appears as though this was a responsibility he was not aware of when he became Shinsou’s caretaker, kero. Perhaps it would be better for us not to interfere more than we need to, kero.”

“That is a very good point, Asui!” Iida remarks, raising his finger. “This is a domestic matter at heart, after all, and none of us are privy to Aizawa-sensei’s personal life enough to properly advise Shinsou in this matter.”

“But, he’ll probably find out about the chat if we do that,” Kirishima adds. “You know he’s all ‘don’t talk to Shinsou,’ so he’s not going to be happy that we went around his back like that.”

“I second that,” Ojiro agrees. “We should keep Aizawa-sensei from finding out we’re talking to Shinsou, for our own sakes.”

More students nod in agreement, and Iida takes that as a group decision to keep Aizawa from knowing about the chat. In truth, he’s quite relieved, knowing that he would have to take responsibility for creating it. “Then, we should move to brainstorming our responses. Yaoyorozu has volunteered the use of her whiteboard so that all of our ideas can be recorded and voted on at the conclusion of our meeting.”

A decision was reached by the time Shinsou had finished changing all of their usernames in the chat, though Iida noticed that he had taken several pauses, either distracted or perhaps waiting to see if further changes were necessary. Iida had to say he was amused by the results. Shinsou had an...expansive vocabulary.

Iida wanted to see more of it, more of that caustic sense of humor. When they fought, there was something approaching a grin on Shinsou’s face in the split second before he swept his legs from under him, a joke he wasn’t made privy to until it landed him on his back.

It reminded Iida of the ward that his father had been assigned when he was a young boy. He remembered the rules set in place, quite similar to the ones Aizawa made. He remembered the frozen fear set in that teenager’s movements, the way he hardly seemed to move at all, making him wonder if he really had a speed enhancement quirk.

And Iida remembered how those frozen movements thawed over time. How the few interactions they had started drawing smiles from that ward, even compliments on Iida’s success in school or quirk training. When the ward left their home, the investigation concluded, Iida’s father had thanked him for helping him make the ward feel more comfortable during his stay. That he had been able to remind the ward of better times, though his father didn’t explain what he meant by that.

Iida knew that wardships were a model of a hero’s duty. Protecting and defending those that needed it. Bringing warm relief to frozen terror.

Iida wanted to do that for Shinsou. He didn’t know how, not when he had forgotten how to approach others as casually and warmly as he had when he was a child. Not when Eri had clearly filled that role, and Iida floundered to find what Shinsou would want from him, how he could offer his help besides.

He was made into the unofficial authority on wardship cases for his peers, and as such was expected to guide them when Aizawa offered little advice, perhaps unaware that it was needed more than in Eri’s situation.

Iida would do his best to succeed. To bring that smile out in Shinsou more often.

And he had an idea that could be beneficial to everyone involved.

*

One of the greatest resources available to a feral cat’s guardian is having a domesticated cat who has bonded with the guardian. By demonstrating affection to the domestic, the domestic in turn becomes a social bridge for the feral. The feral learns how to interact with a guardian without fear by observing the domestic.

“Twenny! Zawa said the heroes made breakfast for us!” Eri tells Shinsou as he exits the bathroom, changed into the galaxy cat hoodie that Hizashi thought he liked the most out of all of his outfits, judging by the way his eyes kept wandering to it in the interrogation room. 

Shinsou’s gaze is unreadable, though his slight hesitation is clear proof that the sight strikes something in him. Aizawa just pulls the last few strands into his hold, gathering Eri’s hair into a half ponytail. He takes the tie from his mouth to wind it around her hair, making sure the plastic butterfly decoration ends up on top. “That isn’t normal,” Shinsou groggily states, his new habit of stating something to be corrected if he’s wrong.

Feral cats, like any other, crave routine. In a perfect world, each day would look like the last, but out of any change that occurs, it is important to avoid changes in feeding times. Food is one of a cat’s most important needs, and your greatest asset in establishing a bond.

“The students don’t do it often, but they occasionally make a dorm breakfast on Sundays,” Aizawa explains, leaning forward so Eri can begin to brush out his hair, starting with the ends. “I have a few breakfast items stored downstairs, so that you and Eri can eat before we leave at noon every week.”

“Zawa makes cereal,” Eri says, pulling his hair together into a loose ponytail. “Yama says he can’t make other stuff, ‘cause he’s not allowed.”

“That’s not a nice thing to point out, Eri,” Shinsou scolds, though Aizawa is surprised to find little evidence of fear in his body language. “People don’t like hearing others talk about things they can’t do.”

Shinsou sits on the cot, raking his fingers through his hair, which causes Eri to protest, snagging a tangle in Aizawa’s hair as she pulls the comb back a bit too roughly. “Wait! I’m almost finished, Twenny!”

“It’s fine, I can-“

“I wanna comb your hair, Twenny,” Eri pouts, and immediately Shinsou pulls his hand away. “Your hair is really soft now. I promise I would’ve combed it before, but now I’m gonna comb it for you all the time, ‘cause you always combed mine.”

Shinsou glances away, his hand curling into a half fist before it relaxes against his knee. “It’s okay, Eri. I probably should have let you do it yourself.” Aizawa stiffens at another snag. “You used to be really tender headed when you were little, though.”

That seems to remind Eri that Aizawa was also a bit sensitive on his scalp, and she pulls the last few locks into her hand more gently, winding the hair tie a bit too loose to stay in place. Aizawa tightens it when she jumps off of his lap to work on her next victim, standing on the cot behind Shinsou with comb in hand. “You remember a lot of stuff, Twenny. Todo said you were telling the heroes stories about when I was little, and I don’t remember some of those.”

The slight widening in Shinsou’s eyes might be due to the tangle that Eri snags, pulling back hard enough to pull his head back with it, but fear is more likely as he glances at Aizawa. “I didn’t tell them much.”

“I wanna hear Eri stories too, though!” Eri says, trying to pull Shinsou’s hair into a small ponytail as well. “Like how I liked chicken, or sleeping with that book. I don’t remember that stuff.”

“I can’t think of any,” Shinsou replies, his voice a bit strained. Aizawa notices his fist knotted tight, his teeth clenching as Eri pulls more hair together on top of his head.

Shinsou probably won’t ask her to stop. Aizawa noticed the distress that Eri touching his scars had caused, but Shinsou did nothing to stop it. He seemed incapable of defending himself from whatever Eri wanted from him, something driven by guilt or a lack of his own bodily autonomy. “We don’t have any more hair ties, Eri,” Aizawa lies, hoping that she forgot about the sizeable collection he started storing in the Safe Room. “You won’t be able to keep that hairstyle in place.”

Eri frowns, but releases her hold, and Shinsou nearly sags with relief. She doesn’t seem to notice, though, combing his hair in opposing directions to return it to its usual wild state.

“You didn’t like green food,” Shinsou says, glancing up as Eri paused. “Especially jello. You said it was weird.”

“I don’t like jello,” Eri replies, shaking her head. “It is weird! It’s jiggly and slimy and gross! The doctors gave me jello a lot before Zawa told them to stop.”

“That’s good,” Shinsou says, putting his phone into his pocket when he notices Eri’s feet have shifted closer to it. “I’m glad you don’t have to eat it anymore.”

Something in Shinsou’s tone suggests it isn’t just a childish whim he’s relieved to know is catered to. Something only Shinsou remembers, that luckily Eri forgot.

When Eri finishes, they exit the Safe Room, and though Aizawa is somewhat relieved to find the dorm still appear to be deserted, he’s a bit concerned by the gathering taking place in Yaoyorozu’s dorm. 18 students wouldn’t cram themselves into a room that could only comfortably contain 6 for no reason, and the commotion last night was a bit beyond Class 1-A’s usual Saturday night behavior.

Particularly Kirishima waving to the surveillance camera.

But out of all the things that Shinsou could have told his class, the existence of the surveillance cameras wasn’t the worst, he supposed.

Aizawa sucks down a jelly packet after making sure that Shinsou would eat the cinnamon roll Eri handed to him. He realizes a bit too late that the jelly packet would have been more nutritionally sound, but the jolt of sugar seemed to help Shinsou appear more awake.

Hizashi had planned to pick up the wards after breakfast, but he must have slept through his alarm. That was unsurprising, considering how Sundays were his designated rest days, often the only day that he could get more than 4 hours of sleep. How his husband managed to be so energetic, or even function with his work schedule was completely illogical.

The wards would be fine with a few more hours in the Safe Room, being unaware of the difference. Eri usually stuck to him like a burr during the last few hours of his weekend dorm shifts, and he had forgotten to mention the change in plan to Shinsou beforehand. Though Aizawa and Yamada tried to let Shinsou know what to expect, some details tended to get lost along the way. They should probably give him a weekly schedule, once things settled down into a more predictable routine.

Eri decided that she wanted to watch a few episodes of the cartoon that Midoriya showed her, settling herself on his lap as he watched the other screens, waiting for his students to leave Yaoyorozu’s room. Shinsou glanced up to watch the show a few times as well, but otherwise seemed to be busy on his phone.

The feral requires an available escape route from social situations, or challenge line interactions. Many prefer a cocoon to hide in, but all benefit from the ability to survey their surroundings from a vantage point high and distant from the comings and goings of the home. Observation is key to a feral’s understanding of its new environment.

Perhaps the surveillance monitors weren’t the only way Shinsou could observe his new environment. Messaging the students, as Aizawa suspected he was doing now, would also be a good way for him to become more comfortable in the classroom, learning a bit more about their personalities from a distance afforded by the phone.

Aizawa was still concerned that Class 1-A would overwhelm Shinsou at the first sign of interest from the ward, which he had apparently given in messaging them. He would have to make sure his class was kept occupied for the next few days to make sure they wouldn’t have the opportunity to swarm Shinsou.

Luckily, quirkless combat drills were a useful way to do that.

*

If it weren’t for Principal Nezu’s extraordinary security measures, this emergency would actually be one of the better ones that Aizawa has attended to for Class 1-A. Right now, he’s afraid it will turn into one of the worst.

“How long have you had this cat in your room?” Aizawa asks, knelt in front of the opened floor vent. He pulls at his capture scarf, sending it into the air duct to wave gently in the air, hopefully entrancing the stray to attack it.

“Two months,” Todoroki replies, seemingly unaware that he should at least pretend to be ashamed of breaking a dorm rule. “I rescued him.”

“It’s my fault, Sensei,” Midoriya interjects. At least he and Koda are panicked enough to pick up Todoroki’s slack. “Todoroki wasn’t going to take him, but I told him he had to! Soba was so thin and hungry, and he curled up right next to Todoroki but wouldn’t let anyone else touch him, and he has heteroch-”

“The reason that uncaged pets aren’t allowed in the dorm,” Aizawa interrupts, glancing over his shoulder to level a glare at each of his students. “Is due to this exact scenario. There are robots in these vents. They act as pest control.”

Aizawa still doesn’t feel a tug of interest on his scarf, and he’s beginning to give up hope. His students’ stricken faces aren’t any comfort right now, not when there’s a very real possibility that Aizawa will have to drag a cat’s corpse out of the walls before the robots dispose of it.

Even if he’s never met this cat, and he wasn’t particularly emotional about how any body was disposed of after the end of its use, Todoroki deserved the chance to grieve over it properly, and not be haunted by the knowledge that it was promptly incinerated inside the wall next to his bed. That much would drive anyone insane, and Todoroki of all people didn’t need another push.

His heart drops as the echoing yowl rises up, confirming the worst case scenario, until Koda shrieks. “ Ghost ?!”

“What?” Aizawa asks, looking to Koda for an explanation as a warning growl rumbles from inside the wall, followed by the sound of claws scraping against metal and the heavy thud of flesh against the ventilation shaft walls.

“H-he says th-there’s a ghost! A d-d-dead b-boy,” Koda translates, his usually high pitched voice even more shrill as he quakes in terror, hands pressed against his jaw.

“That’s impossible, this is a new building,” Aizawa says, waving his hand to dispel that irrational thought. “Out of any place that would be haunted on campus, this is the least likely.”

Despite that, he twists his hold on the capture scarf to cause it to whip a circular motion down its length, to see if it strikes against anything other than the walls.

It does, but the cat doesn’t cry out.

There had to be a logical explanation for that.

The cat hisses, sputtering off into another growl. “H-he told the g-ghost to leave. H-he’s scared!”

Despite himself, Aizawa flinches at the sound of an even louder thunk, the crack of metal striking metal, and one of the robots beeping in alarm. Those things were armed to the teeth with lasers, taser prods, and anything else that Nezu could convince the Support Department to throw on it. But whatever was in the vents disabled it, causing those electronic shrieks that continued on until another metallic crash silenced it.

Aizawa looked to make sure his wards were still in the doorway, at a safe distance just in case whatever was inside that vent wanted to come out. Eri had moved to Koda’s side, staring blankly at the commotion, but Shinsou was nowhere to be found.

“Eri, where is-” Aizawa pauses while Koda screams when he notices Eri, for a second mistaking her white hair as a ghost. “Shinsou?”

Eri’s answer is cut off by the sound of louder thuds and accompanying hisses, the sounds moving along the wall then up towards the ceiling, growing more distant before it cuts off completely.

His personalized chirp identifies Principal Nezu’s text before Aizawa pulls out his phone, hoping that the robot had taken a picture of its attacker so that he would have a clue what he needed to defend the students against before reinforcements arrived. Instead, his words draw confusion, then relief.

Nezu: Please keep your ward out of the ventilation system until the next software update adds his face to the list of neutral parties in the security robots’ configurations. Though I do appreciate his efforts to test our security system, I would prefer to remain aware of them beforehand. :3

That face would never cease to unsettle Aizawa. That face always promised a one-on-one meeting in the very near future.

Before he could text Principal Nezu back, Shinsou appeared in the doorway, his arms wrapped around a thrashing lump inside his hoodie. The teenager’s cheek bore a scratch mark that was slowly weeping blood, and his forehead had a reddening welt that Aizawa felt particularly guilty looking at.

Judging by the way Shinsou’s sleeves were pulled tightly around his hands, those weren’t the only injuries that his ward had gained in the two minutes he was unsupervised. And though Shinsou wasn’t even flinching against the cat’s movements, that was no guarantee that he wasn’t being eviscerated by a trapped feral cat.

“Give me the cat,” Aizawa ordered, holding out his hands. A particularly nasty scream erupted as Shinsou trapped the animal tighter, trying to work it under his hoodie without allowing it to escape. Aizawa couldn’t help but wince at the brief sight of the teenager’s stomach, before he wrapped one hand in front of the cat’s hindlegs and the other quickly scruffed it, making its movements quiet down though its cries did not.

Once he tucked the wild thing under his arm properly and released its nape, the stray just licked its lips and settled, though its eyes were still locked on Shinsou.

“I’m sorry for Soba’s actions, he thought you were a ghost,” Todoroki says, bowing low at the waist. “I can’t thank you enough for saving him from the robots.”

Shinsou just held up a finger. ‘ One R-O-B-O-T. Evil cat. Not cute. ’

Midoriya busied himself by frantically looking through Todoroki’s desk and drawers. “Todoroki, where did you put your first aid kit? I thought it was on the desk-”

“We’ll take care of it,” Aizawa says, pausing from his investigative caresses over the stray’s fine cream colored coat. “He has fleas. You’ll need to wash your bedding and clothes with hot water and buy medication to treat it. If you haven’t taken him to a vet, do so within the week. He needs regular vaccinations and to be tested for diseases.”

Todoroki snaps his head up at him, eyes widened in surprise. “I...can keep him?”

Aizawa turns the cat’s face towards him, earning a slow blink from its mismatched blue and yellow eyes. “As long as I continue to be unaware of his existence, it’s fine.” He holds the cat out for Todoroki to take, and his student pulls the cat into the left side of his chest tenderly, removing any doubt that Aizawa had in his mind. “Do not let anyone know-”

“Ack! Okay, okay!” Midoriya hisses, one hand waving in the air as a distraction from pain, the other held in Shinsou’s grasp, middle finger bent back just a bit beyond its limit. “I’m sorry, can you let me-”

His ward released Midoriya before Aizawa had to intervene, glaring at the student before he realized that Aizawa was watching, stiffly signing, ‘ I am sorry. ’

“It’s fine,” Aizawa reassured, taking his turn to glare at Midoriya. “I said we would take care of it.” Because Shinsou would react that way to being touched.

Midoriya shook his hand back and forth, gritting his teeth. It was his own fault for reaching out with his more damaged hand. Shinsou’s hold was punitive, but when used against that hand, he might have dislocated the finger without meaning to. “Sorry, those scratches just looked really painful.”

Shinsou glances at Eri, who luckily has kept her face hidden against Koda’s jeans once she recognized a cat was in the room, and presses his sleeve against the scratches on his cheek. He was trying to hide the evidence of blood from Eri, which was likely Midoriya’s goal as well, judging by the tissue that was laying on the ground between them.

Eri’s fear of blood was certainly going to complicate matters.

Aizawa was able to pry Eri away from Koda by offering her his shoulder to hide her face against, submitting himself to carrying her back to their dorm despite the protest from his aching back. “Ask Toshinori to help you seal up that vent, but if the cat escapes again, I’m confiscating it.”

Todoroki nods, but then walks forward and slowly puts his hand on Shinsou’s shoulder, ignoring his full-body flinch when he does so. “You should come back to see Soba. He needs to thank you properly.”

Shinsou gives him a withering stare, glaring down at the cat only to elicit a hiss. ‘ S-U-S-H-I good. S-O-B-A evil. ’

At least he liked Sushi.

*

And Sushi was not available. Neither was Emi.

Perfect.

Aizawa frowned to himself, pulling the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink. He would have liked to have some backup in case it turned sour, but at the same time, he didn’t want to disturb those deafening snores echoing through the dorm from their bedroom. Hizashi needed his rest day, and Aizawa wanted to avoid the scolding that was sure to come when his husband saw the state his ward was in.

He might be worrying over nothing. Perhaps Shinsou would be able to clean up his own wounds, and they could go on about the day as he planned to. Demonstrating the social bridge, speaking more than usual so that Shinsou could get used to his voice. Serving them food instead of Hizashi to deepen their tentative bond. Maslow’s hierarchy existed for a reason, and Hizashi did have a better relationship with Shinsou, so perhaps the book that Emi gave him wasn’t completely without merit.

When he set out the supplies from the kit onto the kitchen counter, Shinsou stared blankly at them. That wasn’t a good sign, but he didn’t want to give in quite yet. It wasn’t until Aizawa turned away to look around pointlessly in the kitchen that he heard Shinsou pick up and use the spray bottle, followed quickly by a hiss. Aizawa turned to confirm that Shinsou had sprayed the sanitizer directly onto the scratches covering his hand, and was now frowning at the result.

Shinsou certainly wouldn’t be the first teenager that Aizawa would have to teach the basics of first aid to.

“Here,” Aizawa said, putting his hand out to take the bottle back from Shinsou. The ward glanced back at Eri after he handed it to him. She was hard at work on the purposefully distracting task of putting stickers on Yamada’s graded quizzes, sitting at the kotatsu. 

Shinsou seemed a bit more relaxed at the sight, turning back to Aizawa with the blank expression that the hero preferred over fear.

Aizawa picked up a cotton ball with tweezers, and sprayed it twice. “This spray is an antiseptic, and though it stings, it won’t hurt as much if you avoid direct contact.” When he glanced at Shinsou, adjusting his hold on the tweezers to hand them off with little risk of skin contact, he instead was surprised to see the teenager moving his hand closer, pushing the sleeve above his wrist to show the criss-crossed scratches and bites on the back of his hand.

It wasn’t exactly a touch, but it was a surprising invitation nonetheless.

Aizawa’s hands moved with a confidence he didn’t truly feel, waiting for Shinsou to react. For him to flinch away, for his eyes to go wide or his shoulders to tense, but none of that happened. Shinsou just stared at him, watching his hands, but also glancing toward his face in an almost inquisitive manner. Aizawa was curious himself, but he waits until he’s taken care of both of Shinsou’s hands before he asks, preparing a new cotton ball for the injuries on his face. “Is this the first time someone hasn’t healed you with their quirk?”

The corner of Shinsou’s mouth pulls down, but in a flash it’s gone, like so many of his tells and expressions. He seemed to only be truly expressive with Eri, though the flashes seem to hold a bit longer with the students. ‘C-H-I-S-A-K-I. Not always. Only bad. Not face.’ His hand hovers over his mouth, too long for it to be a sign.

“Mask?” Aizawa asks, stopping to sign the word. Shinsou nods, then repeats it for himself.

‘ H-A-R-I. Useless to do. ’

Aizawa focuses on his breathing, unwilling to let knowing why the scars on his nose and cheek were so deep to unsettle him. That little yakuza bastard targeted the mask to make those scars, and Chisaki thought it was useless to heal the wounds afterwards. Had even told Shinsou that. 

He walks around the kitchen counter to crouch down in front of Shinsou, who lifts his hoodie up to his chest. The cat certainly made a mess of the kid’s stomach, but luckily nothing was too deep.

Those circular scars still unnerve him. Aizawa has developed a strong stomach over his career, and unfortunately an imagination to go with it. Though these scars were only lopsided circles, they had the same grooves at the edges that the ones on Shinsou’s arms did. This set of wounds didn’t have length, they implied depth .

He asks despite his better judgement. “Were you healed by a quirk before the 8 Precepts?”

There’s the flinch. Shinsou’s right hand tightens in the folds of his shirt. If Aizawa looks up, he knows what he’ll see on the kid’s face, so he doesn’t. He just focuses on cleaning up the dried blood, trying to avoid thinking about the wounds those scars must have been before they were healed.

His question wasn’t really a question he needed to have answered. If the kid hadn’t been quirk healed, he would have died from those injuries, after something burrowed inside his abdomen to tear at his arteries and organs. He doesn’t want to imagine what it must have felt like, doesn’t like knowing that Shinsou could have been as young as 4 years old when it happened.

Aizawa sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, returning to the first aid kit if only to distract himself by wondering if he should use an ointment that prevents scarring. It doesn’t help.

‘ Yes. ’

Aizawa doesn’t expect to see that, barely catches the movement of Shinsou’s hands out of the corner of his eye. Shinsou tucks his hands under his arms afterwards, a clear sign that he doesn’t want to continue this conversation, and he stares at Eri, likely finding some comfort in the sight of her picking at her sticker sheet.

It wasn’t exactly new information, and it was useless without knowing more about the quirk, how it worked and who had it, but it was the first piece of information about the Nomu Organization to come from Shinsou. Willingly.

Naomasa had Shinsou for a month, and couldn’t get a single word from him. Aizawa and Yamada hadn’t even had Shinsou for a full week, and they had gotten this much.

Even if Shinsou begins to flinch again when he tries to apply the ointment, Aizawa isn’t concerned. As that damn book put it, ‘ After the moment is over, allow it to end on good terms. Don’t pursue more than what your feral can give in that moment. Simply allow them the space to recover, and thank them for the effort they made. ’

He watches Shinsou apply the ointment himself, and watches him secure the gauze pads with tape. The urge to take over rises in him each time Shinsou glares at the tape when it tangles and sticks to itself, but he lets it pass.

Shinsou made an effort, and he was grateful.

*

Eri thought that she’d be really happy if Twenny had friends, but she wasn’t.

The heroes being friends with Twenny was making him act really weird. He talked to them on his phone a lot, instead of paying attention to Eri, like he always did when they were in the room. Eri tried not to be mad about that, but she kind of was. Especially after Twenny talked at her a little mean, after Bakugo made him mad. It wasn’t even Eri’s fault that Bakugo made him mad.

But maybe it was. Eri told all the heroes to be friends with Twenny, so he was trying to be friends with Bakugo, and got mad. It was Eri’s fault.

Eri must have done something else wrong today. Twenny got hurt by that mean cat because the cat got scared. Eri must have scared it because she was scared of it, just like the cat guy on TV said. She made Twenny get hurt again, just like she used to before they got rescued.

When Eri noticed that Zawa was in a talk-y mood, kind of like Yama gets, she tried to help him by asking him to read to her. It was a little selfish, because Eri really just wanted to be close to Zawa or Twenny, but Twenny didn’t like cuddling with Eri after he got hurt, so she was happy that Zawa let her. Eri thought that she was helping, but she wasn’t doing it right, because Twenny was acting really scared after his phone died, and he wouldn’t have gotten so scared if she was cuddling with him.

Eri was really worried because Twenny was still too scared to eat as much as he should. Zawa and Yama worry about that too, probably because not eating enough is a good way to get sick, and Twenny barely eats as much as she does. Twenny is bigger and older than her, so he needs to eat a whole lot more than her, not less.

Zawa must think that Twenny is getting sick, because he told him he could go to his room if he wanted to. Zawa was also really explain-y today, because he told Twenny that he could go anywhere he wanted in the apartment, and didn’t have to ask permission. Twenny should know that though, because Twenny was older, but he still seemed a little surprised.

Eri was trying to be good. She was trying not to be mad that Twenny wanted to go to his room. She was trying to be happy that Zawa was still letting her cuddle with him while he read his book about cats, but Eri just really wanted to cuddle with Twenny. But she messed up a whole lot today and couldn’t.

Yama went to Twenny’s room for a while after he woke up, and when he came back, he didn’t look happy, even though he was smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile, and Eri held on to Zawa’s shirt just in case Yama did something scary to her. Yama must be mad at her after all the bad things she did, especially everything she did to get Twenny hurt.

“Shou, my dear, sweet husband,” Yama said, his smile getting a little scarier. “Why does Shinsou look like he went on patrol with you?”

Zawa closed his book, and started moving Eri closer to Yama, sitting up so she was right in front of his chest. “We shouldn’t talk about that right now. Eri and I-”

“Shou, don’t use a sweet little girl like Eri to get out of this!” Yama said, pointing at Zawa. “You’re practically using her as a human shield!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zawa said, putting his arms around her with his chin on top of her head. He sounded a little bit scared, and he was holding her like Twenny does sometimes when he’s really scared, so Eri put her arms out to protect him better.

Yama gave her that look that he does when she does something he thinks is super cute, and rolled his eyes. “Aw, I guess Super Eri has saved Eraserhead from the scary villain Mic today!” Yama started talking with his hands, really fast with words she didn’t know, but they made Zawa sigh and nod. “So, we’re going to expel Kaminari. I hope you’re good with that, but tomorrow is his last day at UA.”

Zawa just sighed a little louder. “What did he do?” Zawa didn’t sound like he was surprised.

“Shinsou likes meme songs now,” Yama said, and Eri didn’t really know what memes were, even though everyone talked about them, but Yama must not like their songs. “Because Kaminari sent him some on that chat they have. He was listening to a mashup that uses ‘ Another One Bites The Dust’ by ‘Queen ’ as a backing track, and I don’t think he’s even heard ‘ Queen’ !”

Yama was using English words, but Eri didn’t know enough of them to know what they meant. Zawa just hummed, like he was going to say something to make Yama play-mad. “You know, someone told me that people who try to say certain songs are bad-”

“No, they’re bad , Shou! I take it back, those songs are bad!” Yama says, but then he looks a little sad and pouty. “No, you’re right. Shinsou should have his own taste in music, I just- no, it shouldn’t be mine anyway! That’s not what I wanted in the first place.”

Yama sounded really sad about that. Maybe Twenny should try to listen to more of Yama’s music to make him feel better. Music was really important to Yama, and he really wanted to be Twenny’s friend. Twenny should try to be a better friend to Yama, especially when it was as easy as listening to music.

“He did like ‘ Deniere Danse ’ though!” Yama says, and his hands say a lot of words at the same time. One of them means ‘Mom,’ and that makes Eri really confused. Were they talking about Twenny’s mom with their hands?

“That makes sense. His family has communication-related quirks, so foreign languages are probably more interesting to him,” Zawa says, also talking with his hands.

Eri doesn’t like that they’re doing that. They do it sometimes so they can talk about things she shouldn’t know about, but they’re talking about Twenny. Or maybe they’re talking about how mad they are that she was so bad today, and she got Twenny hurt. 

Maybe they’re talking about how much they hate her. They’re talking about how much they hate that they have to live with her, but they have to, because she has a cursed quirk, and they’re the only ones who can stop her from using it. They don’t really like her at all, just like all the other heroes, but they pretend to be nice to her to stop her from using her quirk.

“Hey there, little bean,” Yama says, smiling while he ruffles her hair. “You doing alright?”

Eri hides her face in Zawa’s shirt. She really isn’t doing alright, but she doesn’t want to tell Yama that. He’ll hate her even more if she does, if she acts out and does something troublesome.

Yama touches her arm, like he’s going to pull her away from Zawa, but Zawa shakes his head at him, and starts rubbing her back. “Eri, what’s wrong?”

Zawa’s nice voice makes her cry, and she doesn’t know why it does. She doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to be even more bad, but she can’t help it anymore. “I’m sor-ry Twenny got hurt. I-it’s my fault, I’m sor-ry!”

“Eri,” Zawa says, like he always does before he tries to convince her she’s wrong. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I scared the cat! I was bad!” Eri tells him, even though he should know. She thought he was already mad at her about that.

But Zawa didn’t know that. His eyes get wider, and he holds her a little tighter. “You weren’t bad, Eri. The cat didn’t even know you were there. It was in the vents, right?”

Eri nods, because it was in the vents, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t scared of her. Somehow.

“I know that seeing Shinsou hurt like that was very scary for you. But sometimes, scary things happen that you can’t control. That doesn’t mean they’re your fault,” Zawa explains, wiping away her tears while she tries to calm down like Twenny showed her to.

“You know, I used to think like that too,” Yama says, sitting down on the floor in front of them. “When I was little, I used to think that I could turn off whether my foster parents liked me that day. If I stepped on a crack on the sidewalk, I wouldn’t get desert, or if I didn’t save an earthworm, they would be mad at me for not doing my chores. There were a lot of days that they were mad at me, and I didn’t do anything wrong at all, so I figured that I must have thought something bad, and that made them mad! But when you think about it, it doesn’t make sense, does it? Would you be mad at me if I stepped on a crack on the road?”

Eri shook her head. She wouldn’t be, that would be silly.

“Of course you wouldn’t, because that would be silly. And my foster parents weren’t mad about that either. But when you’re little, there’s a lot of scary things that happen that you can’t really understand yet, so it makes you feel better to find a reason for it. And that’s not always a bad thing, because sometimes it can make you feel better. But whenever you find yourself getting sad about something scary, you can always come to me or Shou and talk to us about it,” Yama says, smiling at her with his really nice smile. “We’re always happy to tell you about the world, little bean, and sometimes knowing more about the scary thing will make it a whole lot less scary.”

Eri nods her head. “Zawa likes explaining things.”

Zawa laughs, ruffling her hair. “I do. Especially for you, Eri. You’re one of the few people who actually listen to me.”

Eri knows Zawa is complaining about the heroes, but she likes that he says that she’s a good listener. “It wasn’t my fault that Twenny got hurt? Or that he’s mad at Bakugo?”

Yama laughs a little, but she doesn’t think he’s laughing at her. “I don’t think he’s mad at Bakugo anymore, and it definitely wouldn’t be your fault if he was! Bakugo makes a lot of people mad at him, right? So he wouldn’t need your help making Shinsou mad at him.”

Eri nods. She didn’t think about that, but Bakugo was so mad and mean that even Izuku got mad at him sometimes, and Izuku doesn’t get mad at anything, ever. “Is he friends with Bakugo now?”

Yama’s leans to the side as he hums, like he really isn’t sure about that. “It’s hard to say with boys that age, but I think Shinsou is trying to find a nickname for him, and that’s always the first step in being friends with someone.”

Eri already knows that. Some of the heroes get really happy and brag about how they get names from Eri to prove they’re good friends. She doesn’t know how Twenny is going to give Bakugo a nickname when he can’t talk to him, but Bakugo better like it, or she’ll give him a mean face again.

“Would you like to ask Shinsou about it? We should probably bring him some more water, since it’s been a few hours,” Zawa says, but that just makes Eri confused.

“Is Twenny like Beanie?” Eri asks. Zawa has been telling her to water Twenny a lot more than she has to water Beanie, but it’s a little weird that Twenny doesn’t water himself.

Yama tries to hide that he thinks that’s funny, but she can still hear him laughing behind his hand. Zawa just tilts his head, like he does sometimes when he’s not sure how to answer her. “Everyone is like Beanie, because we all need water. I’m just a little worried that Shinsou forgets to drink enough water, so I want to make sure to remind him. Zashi does the same thing for me when I work too much.”

“Sure do! Shou is a very complicated plant sometimes. I have to remind him to drink water, to eat, shower, shave, sleep-”

“Zashi.”

“Go to school, come home, fix up his injuries, take his medicine-”

“We get it,” Zawa says, like he’s a little tired of all the fun Yama is poking at him. “I’m very lucky to have Zashi around to remind me of those things, aren’t I?”

“Yup! You gotta drink water, Zawa! It’s important!” Eri says, even though she doesn’t know why it is. She needs to ask Momo about it, because Momo knows all about sciencey stuff, and she explains it a lot better than Zawa sometimes.

Eri gets to pick Twenny’s new water cup and carry it to him, and she thinks that he’ll be happy that she picked one that has a bunch of scribbly cats drawn on it.

But he isn’t. He looks up from his new laptop and his eyes get really big, and he’s really scared for a little bit before his face goes weird. It doesn’t look like he feels anything when he looks up at Zawa.

“Twenny?” Eri asks, walking over to him. She hopes he’s not mad about something she did, even if Zawa said she didn’t do anything wrong.

“Sorry, Eri,” Twenny says, putting his hand on her head. “Did…. You’re okay.”

Eri nods, but she’s really confused. Twenny tried to ask her a question, and he seems really upset about something, and he keeps looking at Zawa with a kind of mean look in his eyes.

“Eri was worried about what happened today with Soba,” Zawa says, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded. “Is her horn unusual right now?”

Twenny looks really mad at Zawa, and it’s a little scary to look at. Eri reaches up to her horn, and she didn’t even notice that it grew a little. It’s almost bigger than her hand now.

Twenny starts talking with his hands, but he gets frustrated, and pulls up something on his laptop to start typing. Zawa walks over to read what Twenny types. ‘What I signed is the trigger for it. Explain’ Twenny deletes ‘Explain’ and makes a fist. He seems to get really mad, but Zawa just leans back, like he doesn’t want to get close to Twenny right now. “Eri was very worried, but you can see that she’s fine.”

Twenny looks at her really worried, and his eyes look all over her before he looks really sad, and pulls her into his lap. He squeezes her really tight before he looks up at Zawa, and talks with his hands again.

“It’s understandable that you would be concerned,” Zawa says, patting Eri’s head even though he makes sure his arm stays really far away from Twenny when he does it. “I would like to talk to you about Eri’s quirk later, since there’s a lot we don’t know about it. It would help us to avoid this kind of situation in the future.”

Twenny doesn’t like that, but he doesn’t glare at Zawa for saying it. He just holds Eri tighter, and she tries to hold him back just as tight. Zawa leaves and closes the door behind him, and that makes Twenny relax a whole lot. “You’re okay, Eri.”

Eri nods, even though she’s still a little scared at how mad Twenny was at Zawa. “What’s a trigger?”

Twenny sighs, like he’s still a little mad, but he pats her head to say he’s sorry for doing that. “It’s something that causes something else to happen. With my quirk, someone answering a question is a trigger for it to work. With yours… When you get hurt, your horn grows. And eventually, your quirk starts up. I thought….”

“You thought Zawa hurt me? Like…” Eri doesn’t want to talk about Him. Not when Twenny is as scared and mad as he is right now.

Twenny just nods. “I thought they knew that already.” Twenny sounds like it’s a bad thing that he told Zawa.

“Zawa wouldn’t do that! Zawa isn’t like Him at all! Zawa is really nice, and he wants to be your friend, Twenny,” Eri puts her face against Twenny’s shirt, and she tries not to cry. “I really want you to be friends with Zawa, a whole lot more than Bakugo.”

Twenny starts rubbing her back, because he knows when she’s going to cry before she does it. Sometimes he can even stop her from doing it at all. “I’m not really friends with Bakugo. I just think making him mad is fun, because he’s too scared of Aizawa to do anything about it. I think his head is going to explode if I do it enough. Maybe his head is full of candy, and everyone will be happy that I made him explode because they’ll all get a piece.”

Eri giggles a little, even though she doesn’t really want Bakugo to explode. She just thinks that it would look silly if he exploded like a cartoon and candy went everywhere.

“I know you really like Aizawa,” Twenny says, staring at his laptop. “He’s never hurt you.”

Eri shakes her head as hard as she can. Maybe if Twenny sees that, she’ll know that she’s really telling the truth. “NEVER ever ever! Not even on accident!”

Twenny nods really slowly, still staring at the screen. His lips are moving around kind of weird, and his voice sounds weird too, kind of like he’s crying. “I’m just really worried about you, Eri. I really want to keep you safe. I’m sorry if that makes you sad, but I don’t know anything about Aizawa, or Yamada. I think they’ll keep you safe, but if I’m wrong….”

Eri knows that Twenny is really scared about that. He’s a good TV mom, because he worries about her a lot, and he tries really hard to keep her safe. He was always trying different things to get them out before they got rescued, and sometimes he didn’t tell her what he was doing because it was dangerous. Sometimes he got really hurt from trying.

It would be really sad if Zawa was like Him, and they never really got out. That would scare Eri too, but Eri knows Zawa’s not like that at all. 

“Zawa saved me, Twenny. When we were getting rescued, he used his quirk on mine ‘cause mine was hurting me and Izuku. And then he came to see me a lot when I was in the hospital, and he protected me a lot. Even from the doctors,” Eri pulls her knees up so she can feel smaller, and because Twenny always puts his arms around her to hold her better when she does that. “He’s like you, Twenny. He’s not like Him at all.”

Twenny puts his arms around her like she wants him to, and she feels guilty because she forgot that he’s hurt, and maybe that hurts him to do it, but he doesn’t look like it hurts him. Twenny is still staring at the laptop, because he probably thinks she’s wrong still.

She hopes he starts believing her soon. She knows that Twenny is scared, and he gets a different kind of scared when he’s scared about Eri. But it would be really nice if Twenny and Zawa were friends.

It would probably be like living in a TV show, if her TV Mom and TV Dad were friends.

(NC)

Aizawa doesn’t remember, but he thinks that USJ happened on a Monday.

As they walk across campus to the academic building, he can’t help but feel overwhelmed in the same way he had during the battle. He feels like there’s too many opponents, too many children that he needs to protect. He wants to cut himself into pieces to be there for all of them but all he can do is push his body to the limit, throw himself into fight after fight while he tries to find the head of the snake to end it.

It’s far more overwhelming when his opponents are also the children that he wants to protect. 

Shinsou doesn’t help at all. The kid is a ball of nerves at the best of times, but right now, he’s crouched over Eri to the point that even his arms are hanging around her, and throughout the morning, he's been looking at her like he wants to shove her into his hoodie to keep her close.

Aizawa knows the feeling, but he also knows that won’t help. Shinsou knows that far better, but he can’t blame the kid for being irrational. Shinsou knows the danger that Eri’s horn poses more intimately than Aizawa ever will.

Aizawa knows as soon as his students see Shinsou, they’re going to act familiarly with him, friendly even. And as soon as they invade his space, invade Eri’s as well, Shinsou will probably snap. He will lash out, he will attack in what he believes is Eri’s defense, and that will make him do far more harm than the broken bones he knows the kid can inflict when he wants to. He’s more than a little concerned that the knife will come into play, and Aizawa will have to worry about something far worse than what Recovery Girl can mend.

That’s why he texted Iida to make sure that his students will be dressed in their gym clothes and waiting on the track instead of meeting them in the classroom. He doesn’t text Iida often, not just because he hardly needs to, but because he thinks Iida doesn’t know how to lie to his peers about how he got his number. It would be easy enough to say that it’s a requirement for his position as class president, but Iida gets flustered to the point of freezing up at the threat of his peers discovering that Aizawa has known the kid for years through Tensei.

He also dislikes that Iida doesn’t know how to text back with less than 200 words, and this morning’s reply is especially lengthy. Aizawa is highly tempted to stop reading after ‘In response to your message regarding the preparations for training to take place during homeroom - I have dispersed your instructions to the members of Class 1-A and I am currently supervising their progress in meeting your requirements,’ which really could have been boiled down to ‘Understood.’ But his eyes catch on Shinsou’s name, and he forces himself to read the whole thing.

Iida is trying, poorly, to hide the fact that Shinsou expressed some amount of interest in training with them. Iida tries to make it seem like this is an idea that came to him naturally, that it would be beneficial for Shinsou to get more exercise and that martial arts is particularly well suited to that, as it improves self-confidence and overall mental health. He even cites several academic studies as evidence using MLA format.

Aizawa doesn’t reply, not just because he hates MLA citations, but because Iida has a point.

And a far better reason to see what Shinsou can do than Aizawa does.

Aizawa has tried to dispel it as ill-advised curiosity, his own inability to sort Shinsou into a mental box labeled ‘ward’ or ‘investigation witness’ that causes him to think of Shinsou as a potential student at times. It doesn’t help that Shinsou is the same age as his students, that he knows on the surface, Shinsou’s training and quirk would make him into an exceptional hero. A student he would truly enjoy taking under his wing.

He also thinks that he should know what Shinsou is capable of, in a way that Naomasa’s files can’t tell him. He saw Shinsou fight off the rioters in his cell, he’s read the injury reports from police officers who tried to shake him out of a trance and found that their own training was lacking against a half-starved teenager. He’s never seen Shinsou fight with his own eyes, and he wonders if that would make it easier to trust him around his students, if he could pin-point every opening and vulnerability he had to take him down if necessary.

But honestly, he’s getting a bit frustrated with Shinsou, especially when he sees that everyone else seems to have a way to relate to him. He’s at the point that he’s comfortable enough with Hizashi to ask him a question through sign, he’s been glued to his phone most of the weekend to message his students.

His students probably know more about the teenager that’s been living with Aizawa than he does.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, that it’s entirely possible that Shinsou was able to make those connections more readily because he had already decided that Aizawa was the greatest threat to him. He should be able to accept it under that theory, but he finds himself rebelling even more.

Aizawa doesn’t know a single thing about Shinsou that didn’t come from someone else or his case files. And that needs to change quickly.

He needs Shinsou to trust him, for Eri’s sake. 

He knows more about her quirk than anyone else, and even if that information was painfully gathered, it’s vital for them to have. He knew how to trigger it to build, and may also know how to slow it, or predict the moment it would erupt. If there was a way for her to focus or control it that she had never been told, but Chisaki had learned and manipulated.

Shinsou needs to trust him for his own sake.

Naomasa wasn’t supposed to know himself, it was a mistake that the file was leaked to him, but now that both of them know, they need to make much greater progress in the investigation.

He won’t tell Hizashi about it yet, taking advantage of how Naomasa, like many others, tend to underestimate his husband. It’s not because he thinks that Hizashi wouldn’t be useful in this, he would probably be Aizawa’s best chance of extracting something useful from Shinsou about the Nomu Organization.

But he also knows that Hizashi would tear up his own hero license if he knew what The Commission was planning.

Aizawa pushes that thought aside, noticing that Shinsou’s steps falter when they pass Class 1-A’s homeroom. “We’re meeting the students on the track today, for hand-to-hand combat training. I’ll decide between grapples or joint-locks when I get there.”

He knew that they definitely needed more instruction on restraining holds, and his decision was really based on how energetic they were. Throwing each other around to practice grapples came with a greater risk of injury, but he wanted to make sure his students would be too exhausted to give Shinsou more than a wave while they dragged themselves off to their next class.

He wasn’t really expecting Shinsou to weigh in. ‘ L-O-C-K-S. More useful. Not recognize it. ’

Aizawa knows that Shinsou might not have meant for him to see that, walking behind Eri with Aizawa’s back turned to him. He wouldn’t have if the kid didn’t step closer to a student who was running down the hall, using his body to shield Eri from the perceived threat. But now, he couldn’t help but ask. “They didn’t know you were going to use a joint-lock on them before you did it?”

Shinsou looks up at him in surprise, confirming that he was sign-muttering to himself, then nods. ‘ Long Spine did. Float once. Float too aggressive. Jerky. ’

Aizawa nods in response, unable to hide his hum of approval. “I assume you’re referring to Ojiro and Uraraka. Ojiro has the most martial arts training out of all of my students, but Uraraka does have a habit of getting a bit too enthusiastic as the match goes on. More experience will help with that.”

He’s wondering if he should change his plan to keep the wards distracted, whether he should encourage Shinsou to weigh in on the training rather than avoid the sight of it, when Shinsou’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “Danger.”

Aizawa turns to look, to find the direction that Shinsou is looking so he can know where his opponent is, a danger familiar enough for Shinsou that he was able to speak in warning.

Instead, he sees Shinsou looking down at Eri, guiding her through the signs that she knows. “Bad. Friend.” He counts himself lucky that Shinsou didn’t notice, too attentive to their JSL lesson. 

It’s more than a little odd that Eri never let them know that she knew JSL, given how much he and Hizashi have used it around her. He understands why Eri wouldn’t have asked Hizashi, given that ‘Yama’ is a new development, but Eri has always come to him with questions, with almost everything that she needs.

He’s beginning to think that Shinsou might have picked up on that, deciding that Aizawa was the new Chisaki because of it. Because proximity to Eri clearly makes him a threat in Shinsou’s mind. 

But there’s almost a sort of rivalry at times. The way Shinsou glares at nearly everyone who seems close to Eri when she focuses her attention on them has a slightly possessive edge to it. Shinsou wants to keep Eri safe, but there might be a more selfish reason to keep her safe and close to him. That’s something that Aizawa can’t exactly blame Shinsou for, when Eri was the only source of comfort he would accept.

But the rivalry might not be entirely one-sided. 

Aizawa has tried to be rational, to tell himself that he can’t connect to Shinsou because Shinsou fears him, because there’s little that they have in common, because Shinsou deliberately keeps him from knowing more about him.

But Shinsou knows more about Eri than Aizawa does, and there’s an irrational part of him that bristles at that. There’s a part of him that wants to know more about what happened at the 8 Precepts in a way that isn’t at all related to doing his job as Eri’s caretaker. A part of him that wants to know his wards history, not to evaluate their relationship or their needs, but just to know. To know more about Eri, the little girl that doesn’t feel like she belongs in a box labeled ‘ward’ in his mind anymore.

Aizawa busies himself with a headcount as they walk outside, trying to gauge whether his students are suffering from not only a Monday morning, but a morning that started far earlier than they expected it to at Iida’s instruction. He’s relieved to find even Kaminari swaying with the effort to stand at attention, Ashido leaning heavily on his shoulder while he does.

Joint locks it is, then.

“Good morning, Aizawa-sensei!” Iida calls, completely unaffected by the change in routine because not only is it hardly different from his usual one, he’s a morning person as well.

It’s unfortunate that his energy seems to awaken most of Class 1-A, as they blink and look around. Unfortunately, their gaze finds Shinsou and locks onto him with a frightening yet entirely predictable intensity. 

Aizawa steps in front of Shinsou on instinct. “After Iida guides you through stretches, run 5 laps and pair off to practice joint-locking your opponent. If I see that any of you have forgotten a lock, I will demonstrate it on you.” He pauses to let the threat sink in, waiting a little longer than usual to adjust to their lack of sleep. “Unless I’m needed, I’ll be in the stands. Don’t need me.”

As Aizawa walks away, he angles himself to keep an eye not only on Class 1-A, but on Shinsou as well. Only half of his students are paying attention to Iida’s instructions, and more than half of them aren’t pleased to deal with an enthusiastic morning person at this hour. The other half are still watching Shinsou like a cat who’s found prey, but luckily Shinsou hasn’t given them any interest in return. In fact, he seems to be avoiding their gaze, the tension in his shoulders and eyes focused on the ground gives the reason for it away.

Shinsou regrets talking to them.

Aizawa is familiar with that feeling. He’s walked the halls of this very school with his shoulders raised to his ears, his eyes avoiding the expectant stares of his ‘new friends.’ Friends that were easier to make over the course of the week, trading little comments and interactions until a quiet weekend alone seemed to make him forget how to be comfortable with that.

But Mondays seemed to make everyone around him too energetic, too expectant. They crowded around him and told him they missed him, that they never hang out, that they should get together to do whatever they did over the weekend this coming one. Hands clapping his shoulders in a way he could tolerate on Friday, but never on a Monday.

It was a testament to Shirakumo’s innate empathy that he never did that. He’d smile, wave at most, and try to distract Hizashi and the others, sometimes leaning completely over Aizawa to do it, which only gave him another excuse to lay his head on the desk and take a quick nap despite the cacophony above him. Even Hizashi never understood it, far too distracted by every single thing he had wanted to tell Aizawa over the course of the weekend. It was a report that he learned would be shorter and quieter if he simply gave in and met with Hizashi on the weekend, even if he just silently watched him record his podcast.

Shirakumo would probably be able to understand Shinsou at a glance, if he was alive. Just one look and he’d know exactly what Shinsou needed, what he wanted, and he would be able to give those things to him with that easy, utterly disarming grin.

But Shirakumo isn’t alive, and Aizawa still fumbles to know what people want from him at times. He’s just learned how to hide it better, no longer the awkward teenager who was still in the process of giving up on most people’s expectations of him.

But he thinks that Shinsou wants some kind of distraction, one that he isn’t seeking from his phone as though he’s still under the assumption that he shouldn’t use it during school hours, or Eri, who’s happily drawing a picture of one or several of the members of Class 1-A. At this point, it’s only blue and red scribbles, but she tends to put colors down before she defines them with black crayon.

“Did you notice anything else when you sparred with my students?” Aizawa asks, watching his class begin their laps with just the slightest regret that he assigned 5 of them. If picking apart his students’ shortcomings was the bonding activity that worked, he was more than happy to do it with Shinsou. Toshinori always tried to argue in his students’ defense, which irritated Aizawa to the point of avoiding that conversation.

Shinsou keeps his eyes trained on Eri as he approaches the railing Aizawa is leaning against, and probably dislikes the distance that’s necessary in order to sign to him. But it’s a good indication that he’s interested enough to do it. ‘ Scared Tape not serious. Bad S-T-R-A-T-E-G-I-E-S. If he has one. O-V-E-R-E-X-T-E-N-D-S. ’

Aizawa hums. “This is ‘strategy.’ I don’t remember if there is a sign for ‘overextend,’ you might want to ask Hizashi.” His eyes find Sero, who was trying to improve his running form, but his concentration is broken by the conversation he’s having with Todoroki. “He hasn’t practiced much with using his quirk for mobility. I think he was planning to rely on it for crowd control and restraining villains. There’s a balance between pulling enough tension from something like his quirk, and leaving yourself vulnerable. He hasn’t found it yet.”

Aizawa’s fingers play with the ends of his capture scarf idly, wondering if he should take Sero aside to see if some private instruction would help or if his student would be too terrified to take it seriously. He can’t help but smile a bit when he notices Shinsou’s eyes linger on his scarf a bit longer than they would if he were simply tracking the movement of his hand.

“The capture scarf works similarly. It was designed to simply restrain, but over the years, I’ve learned to manipulate it for offense, defense, and mobility. Though it was a long process to master it,” Aizawa can almost feel the spiral-shaped bruises that he earned before he learned not to untangle himself by manipulating the scarf again. That happened a lot before he started asking Shirakumo or Hizashi to watch him train with it, so that they could pull him out of any messes he caused. “It responds to the unique signals that most emitter quirks have. It was also a long process to learn how to manipulate those signals, but not my quirk.”

Shinsou’s eyes widen like they did when Sansa showed him his toebeans, and Aizawa nearly moves to take his scarf off just to chase after that moment, that sudden and intense interest that Shinsou couldn’t hide. But Shinsou turns to look at the students, eyes narrowing not quite in a glare, lip pulled between his teeth.

Shinsou must have forgotten that he hated his quirk for that brief moment, too curious to know if he could use the capture scarf or not.

Too curious to know if he could use another weapon , Aizawa thinks bitterly. The knife was one thing, he was very experienced at disarming someone wielding a knife. He also felt like the kid would probably feel safer if he had some way to defend himself in an environment full of powerful quirk users. As much as he wanted to trust Shinsou, handing him the capture scarf wouldn’t be a good idea. He’s never fought his own scarf before, and he doesn’t want to anytime soon. 

Iida finishes the laps first, unsurprisingly, and volunteers that he, Midoriya, and Uraraka take the 3-man match up. How selfless of him. “Your match with Iida must have ended quickly. Ojiro almost forgot about it when he told me,” Aizawa says, more than a little impressed that Shinsou was able to take Iida down in the first place. Iida was a wall of meat while Shinsou was a twig underneath his oversized hoodies. It’s a wonder that Iida didn’t break Shinsou in half.

‘ President Exhausting predictable. Power in leg. Attack with leg. ’ There’s a sadistic little smirk that flashes over Shinsou’s face while he looks at Iida. ‘ Stop leg. He stalls. ’

Iida must be one of his favorites, then. Aizawa wonders how many car-related JSL signs Shinsou learned just to make a joke like that. “The Iida family has had the same quirk for three generations. They should have adjusted their training by now, but obviously, they haven’t. Tensei should have prepared him, but sometimes I wonder if he knew I was going to be Tenya’s teacher, and intentionally didn’t.”

Shinsou cocks his head at that, and Aizawa can almost hear the gears turning in his head, a question that he’s trying to answer for himself or word in a way that it doesn’t come across as a question at all. ‘ Names odd. T-E-N-Y-A. I-I-D-A. I don’t know the difference. ’

Aizawa holds up a hand to Shinsou out of a habit grown from having to interrupt Toshinori in situations like these. “Aoyama and Ashido, Bakugo and Kirishima. If you keep squabbling like 4 year olds, I will make you wear the hats.”

Aoyama turns his nose up at the thought, but Ashido knows that his threat isn’t an empty one, and throws her arms around Aoyama to haul him to another sparring space before he could think of wheedling Bakugo further into being his partner. Bakugo shoots Aizawa a pointed glare, but Kirishima pulls him into a shoulder-hug, saying something that makes Bakugo sneer, then soften into a haughty cackle.

Aizawa sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, but that was going to turn ugly if I let it. You’re…” Aizawa trails off, struggling to find a way to word what he assumes Shinsou meant in a way that isn’t accusatory. “Unfamiliar with family names.”

Shinsou nods, turning to look at Eri for a while after he does. Aizawa can’t tell whether it’s discomfort or embarrassment that causes him to turn away, but he waits until Shinsou turns back to the students to continue. He needs to be able to read Shinsou while he explains this, to make sure he doesn’t come off as demeaning.

“ ‘Iida’ is a family name, and both Tensei and Tenya share it, as they’re brothers. It would be confusing to refer to both of them as Iida, which is why I use their given names when I have to, though I’m not familiar enough with Tenya to be comfortable doing it otherwise,” Aizawa explains, noticing that Shinsou’s head tilts again at ‘comfortable.’ “Using someone’s given name implies a level of familiarity or closeness. Only family or very close friends do so. You might have noticed that Hizashi and I call each other different names when we’re at home or at school, and you might have noticed that I just called him Hizashi again,” Aizawa folds his hands in front of him, running a thumb over his ring finger. “I tend to forget over the weekend. Some of the students would find our relationship distracting to their studies, and neither of us would appreciate the attention.”

He made that mistake with his first class. 15 year olds lack any emotional maturity or self-awareness, and he learned that in the worst way. He knows Hizashi still has some of the drawings from the girl he expelled for sexual harassment.

Aizawa should be paying more attention to his class than he is to Shinsou, to enforce his previous threat if they didn’t run through all the joint-locks that they knew. But he’s mostly trying to figure out why Shinsou seems even more uncomfortable than he was under Class 1-A’s stare.

That’s probably why Eri was able to sneak up on him. “Twenny, Zawa!” Eri sing-songs, holding up her completed work of art. “I drew the heroes in their work-out clothes!”

“You did a-” Both Aizawa and Shinsou say, in unison, before Shinsou stops himself. “Good job.”

Eri beams at that, probably finding some amusement in their combined praise. “Do you think they’ll like it?”

“They will,” Aizawa promises, knowing that if Eri offers to give the picture to them, a fight will probably break out over who gets to keep it before one of his more level headed students suggests that it be displayed in the common area of the dorm. Even though the pictures in the common area still seem to go missing after a few days.

“They better,” Shinsou threatens instead, and though he probably means it, he smiles at Eri to play it off as a joke.

Aizawa is more than a little pleased that Eri decides to give her picture to the hero students, as it plays out exactly as he expected it to and distracts his students from Shinsou in the most effective way possible.

He’s too busy trying to keep a straight face as Bakugo argues that he only wants the picture ‘So none of you shit heads can moon over it all damn day,’ and forgets to do another headcount. If he did, he would have noticed that Ashido had snuck behind him at some point.

He’s made aware of it when he hears her yelp, and turns to find the aftermath of Ashido’s infamous stealth-hugs targeted at Shinsou.

Ashido looks shocked, rather than in pain, with Shinsou holding each of her elbows in each hand, thumb pressing her forearms up and fingers tucked into the bend. There’s several ways to cause a considerable amount of pain in that hold, and he’s almost certain that Shinsou knows all of them.

But Shinsou seems shocked himself, though it flashes to panic and fear.

Aizawa isn’t sure how to diffuse the situation appropriately, now that his entire class has noticed, so he tries to turn it into a lecture. “Shinsou is demonstrating an elbow lock. In what situations would you choose that rather than a wrist or shoulder lock?”

Shinsou’s grip wavers before he’s able to release Ashido, and his hands move away stiffly but don’t quite rest at his sides. Ashido pulls her arms behind her back, shifting her weight between her feet nervously. 

Aizawa doesn’t know what she’s working up the courage to say, but he’d rather she not try it. He focuses on staring down his class to force one of them into answering, though he sees a lot of disappointingly blank faces.

Unsurprisingly, Ojiro is the one who knows the answer. “An elbow lock is a bit more challenging to do successfully, but it’s more effective against an opponent that has a weapon, or a quirk that originates from their hands.”

And that was not the answer that Aizawa nor Ashido wanted to hear.

Aizawa sees her flinch out of the corner of his eye, having turned to focus his attention on his class after Shinsou seemed to stand down. He doubts that’s why Shinsou chose that hold, but Ashido could be uncharacteristically sensitive about her quirk at times. This was clearly one of them.

“It’s also effective for controlling your opponent’s torso if you keep the arms in an appropriate position for it, which can allow you to move your opponent more easily. And because it’s difficult to execute, it’s also more difficult to break,” Aizawa lectures, fully aware that Ashido probably doesn’t hear a word he says. “Everyone except Ashido is dismissed. You have 15 minutes before English.”

Aizawa considers dismissing his wards as well so that he can have this conversation with Ashido privately, but he sees a few too many students looking at Shinsou with suspicion or concern to risk it. Instead, he takes Ashido by the arm to guide her far enough away that Shinsou hopefully won’t overhear.

Ashido won’t meet his eyes when he stops and turns to face her.

“I understand that you have a unique history with Shinsou,” Aizawa says, struggling to decide whether Ashido needs firmness in his tone to remember this lesson, or comfort to keep from crying. “But that doesn’t excuse you from my instructions to not interact with him. I’m fully aware that you and your peers have ignored that, and I’ve allowed it to a degree, but I’m strictly forbidding touching Shinsou in any manner.”

Ashido’s hand rises to pull at the ends of her hair, glancing at Shinsou guiltily. “I probably scared him, didn’t I? I guess it’s kind of weird, to think we were still kinda friends, or we could be friends again-”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Aizawa interrupts. He knows that Ashido translates physical affection into friendship in a way similar to but a bit more intense than Hizashi does. “Shinsou was probably startled, and if he was afraid, it wasn’t related to you. It’s logical to assume that he’s unfamiliar with a hug, or any other physical contact that wasn’t painful to him.”

He doesn’t entirely mean to tell her that, but he sees it click into place when her eyes widen. “That Chisaki guy… and the villain school….”

As much as he dislikes the implication that ‘villain school’ puts on Shinsou, he knows he can’t correct her. “He can react far more violently than he did. Now that you know that, take care that it doesn’t happen again, from any student in Class 1-A.”

Ashido nods, holding her hands together to either restrain herself, or out of a still-lingering worry that Shinsou’s hold was deliberate. That he chose it out of fear that she would have a quirk-slip and burn him.

She only relaxes her grip when they return to the wards, trying to smile brightly at them though it’s pinched at the edges. “Hey, I’m sorry! I’m just super clingy sometimes, ya know?”

Shinsou still doesn’t look at her, but Eri steps in front of him, arms slightly away from her waist in an almost protective manner. “It’s okay, Ashi! Shinsou said that he’s sorry, and he hopes you’re okay! He’d tell you with his phone, but he forgot it.”

Shinsou flinches, his right hand becoming a fist so tight that his knuckles whiten. Aizawa starts to regret not offering the capture scarf to him, even if he might have refused it.

Without the phone, Shinsou would be completely defenseless today.

NC

Yamada is more than a little surprised that his husband and the wards beat Class 1-A to his classroom, strolling in as his homeroom filters out the door. But he also knows the reason for it. “Eraserhead, did you really put the herolets through Monday morning combat training?! On a Monday morning! ”

He doesn’t like how Shouta follows Shinsou with his eyes while he scratches his neck guiltily. “Is that exam ready?”

Yamada knows that Shouta’s best laid plans must have burn to ash in front of him to ask for that, given how obstinately opposed he had been last night.

“Still planning on doing combat drills first thing in the morning? On a Monday morning no less?” Yamada asked, watching Shouta pour over Shinsou’s statement about Chisaki at two in the morning, probably hoping to find something about Eri’s quirk that he missed the first five times he read it.

“Yes,” Shouta growls, though he’s leaning so heavily on his elbow propped on the desk that a long enough blink will probably put him to sleep.“Shinsou messaged them, so they’re going to come to class with the expectation that he’s their new best friend. And I do not want to have to deal with that on a Monday morning.”

“Lucky for you that I already had something planned. We can just swing by the staff room to pick it up, and you can spend your morning glaring at your little herolets whenever it looks like they’ll bother Shinsou, because he’ll be busy taking his General Studies exam.”

Shouta raises his eyebrows at him. “Zashi, you can’t be serious. It’s surprising that the kid can read, but do you really think this Nomu Organization taught him anything else? Enough for General Studies?”

“That’s the thing, we don’t know what he knows! And we owe it to him to find out! Trust me, the kid loves learning new things, he just has this look in his eye - and honestly, Shou, can we really call ourselves teachers if we have a 16 year old living under our roof that doesn’t even know that other countries exist?” 

That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back for Yamada. The kid was so confused about French being another language, and his head tilted when he said the word ‘France’ like that too was a completely alien concept to him. There was a very real possibility that they had a teenager who had lived in the darkest recesses of the criminal underworld for so long that everything normal was new to him.

If nothing else, this was something that he could do for Shinsou. He could teach him what he had missed out on, he could fill in the gaps where school hadn’t been an option for him. Shinsou had missed out on his entire required education, and even if he remembered every lesson from his first year of school, that wasn’t even approaching enough for a boy who would become an adult in just a few short years.

“Actually, I’ve got a better one!” Yamada answers, pulling out the thick manilla envelope from the top drawer of his desk. “I talked to Principal Nezu, and he whipped this up in no-time flat! Actually, he might have already planned this, I didn’t ask- Oh, and he definitely wants to talk to you about some air duct adventures when you get the chance! So, uh, maybe you should stay busy for a while.”

Shouta sighs, glancing back at the wards to make sure that Shinsou is busy helping Eri with her science workbook. “I’ll have an excuse today. Naomasa wanted to meet with me after school.”

Yamada can’t help but look at Shinsou as well, even as he knows that carries the risk of Shinsou becoming suspicious of their conversation. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

Shouta looks to the side, confirming his suspicions, but he knows he can’t pry right now. He just hopes that Shouta reminds Naomasa who Shinsou’s appointed hero is, since the detective seems to have forgotten to keep him in the loop. “I don’t know myself, but I will. Make sure to yell at Class 1-A if they try to distract him.” ‘ He forgot his phone. Seems scared to tell us. ’

Yamada nods, throwing a thumbs up with one hand while he adjusts the volume on his speakers with the other. Shouta finally breaks into a smile at the prospect of Class 1-A receiving some psychological conditioning to keep them from talking to Shinsou.

Shinsou seems a bit more jumpy than usual as Yamada approaches, but Yamada tries to reassure him with a grin, struggling to keep his own excitement to a minimum. “So, I’ve got a super fun project for us to start on today!”

Shinsou eyes the envelope warily, even as Yamada pulls the thick stack of papers from it. Eri’s eyes brighten at the prospect of grading more papers, and he feels a little bad for having to disappoint her.

“So, I know we’re making a lot of progress on English and JSL, and I’m still just so thrilled that you’re enjoying those lessons! It’s such a nice break from these knuckleheads I’m stuck with most of the day,” Yamada intentionally rambles, placing the first section of the exam on Shinsou’s desk so he can dig out the other tools for it. “But, I think we should see where you are in other subjects! It’s not really fair that Eri gets to study math and science while you’re stuck with languages, ya know?”

Shinsou’s eyes are still locked on the exam like it’s going to bite him, and Yamada hopes this wasn’t a bad idea. That maybe he’s more concerned with having to circle his answers than being unable to answer most of them. He knows that Shinsou should know how to add and subtract, since Eri was working on multiplication when she came to live with them.

“So, we’ve got this nifty little pen here that you can use to circle your answers! You just put it over the answer and click the top,” Yamada says, demonstrating on the top corner of the page. “And presto! All circled and everything!”

Shinsou takes the pen when he offers it, staring at it with wide and curious eyes before his mouth pulls into a frown. He was just a little too observant for his own good.

“A couple of students use that when they have to take really long tests, since circling all those answers can give you a pretty sore hand,” Yamada lies, shaking his hand for effect. 

It was a pen that was designed for students who had trouble with using pencils for a variety of reasons, either their hands were too big due to their quirk or they had muscle or nerve issues. Which was something that Shinsou might also struggle with, but Shouta insisted that they shouldn’t bring up. 

“And if you see anything that you kind of know, but don’t know how to answer, you can use this pink highlighter so we can go over it later. And this yellow one is for something that’s totally new for you. And don’t worry, I’m expecting to see a lot of yellow when you get to the end of this exam, since it goes all the way to Calculus! And all I know about Calculus is how to spell it!”

Shinsou still didn’t seem to be reassured by that, going stock-still at the thought of not being able to answer something. That was what Yamada was afraid of.

Shinsou had been so terrified of not remembering how to spell ‘job’ that he dissociated on Friday. It was something that Yamada wanted to chalk up to being put on the spot, as some of the most confident hero students tended to get a little stage fright in front of the chalkboard. He thought that Shinsou being able to do the exam on his own time might take enough pressure off of him, or that maybe he had gotten a little more comfortable with Yamada now that he could sign ‘I don’t know.’

It might be something deeper, but Yamada doesn’t have a clue what it is. He knows that it’s not the right time to find out, but before he can take back the exam, Eri pipes up. 

“Yama, can I please grade Twenny’s test?” Shinsou turns to Eri, who has her hands pressed together in pleading. “I promise I’ll pick the BEST stickers! I don’t like using the cat stickers ‘cause I wanna keep them, but I promise I’ll use the cat stickers for Twenny’s test! I’ll use all of them!”

Shinsou’s expression finally breaks into a smile, and now Yamada really can’t refuse her. “Of course! In fact, we’re probably going to have to go shopping for some more cute cat stickers! I want to see a cat sticker on every single question! Do you think you’re up for the task, little bean?”

Eri gives him an enthusiastic salute, which he returns without hesitation.

“ ‘ God speed and God bless!’ ” Yamada answers, pleased to see Shinsou picking up the pen to start answering the questions on his exam. 

Relief finally sets in when he counts three clicks before he makes it back to the front of the room.

*

Twenny should get coffee a lot more often.

Twenny still seemed kind of scared sometimes, but he was trying to be good friends with Zawa and Yama, just like Eri told him to. That made Eri really happy, especially when Zawa and Twenny talked at the same time. The heroes made fun of each other when that happened, and said weird things about why it did. If Izuku and Toshinori talk at the same time, the heroes laugh because Toshinori is Izuku’s dad. If it’s just the heroes, they either say they’re ‘jinxed’ or that they must be really close. Ashi says that in a really weird way, and it sometimes makes the other heroes mad when she does it.

Eri doesn’t spend a lot of time with Ashi, because Ashi is kind of loud sometimes, but Eri is definitely going to spend a lot more time with her now since she’s Twenny’s friend. Twenny doesn’t really know how to make friends, because he didn’t know how to hug Ashi back, but Eri can show him how if she hugs Ashi for him. Just like it’s Eri’s job to talk for Twenny sometimes, it’s going to be her job to hug people for Twenny until he knows how.

And it’s also her job to make sure that Twenny does his tests, even though he doesn’t want to. He was giving the papers a really weird look, kind of like how the heroes look at their homework when they don’t want to do it, but if Yama wants Twenny to do his tests, he’s really got to do it. Yama was right about it not being fair that Twenny teaches Eri everything, because Twenny should get taught different things too.

Eri knows that Twenny will be a really good student for Yama, and he wants to have a lot more good students in his class. Especially because Kaminari wasn’t being a good student, and it seemed like he was being a really bad one today.

“KA-MIN-A-RI,” Yama yells, stopping at different parts of Kaminari’s name like he does when he’s really mad. “I see a beacon of light under your desk, and I don’t think it’s to catch any moths!”

Kaminari tries to smile, but it kind of looks like when Eri tries to smile and it doesn’t work. Eri doesn’t think that will work for Kaminari either.

“Since possessive conjugations are just so beneath you today, let’s try running through the alphabet! A!” Yama says, pointing at Kaminari so he knows to stand up.

Kaminari stands up, but he starts counting with his fingers while he starts saying the alphabet. “B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N.” Kaminari starts to sound kind of embarrassed when the other heroes start laughing, but Eri knows they wouldn’t laugh at him, because that’s mean. “Q-”

“O!” Eri says. She’s trying to be helpful, and stop the heroes from laughing and making Kaminari feel bad, but she doesn’t do it right. Kaminari’s head moves down like he’s trying to look at his shoes, and all the heroes start laughing even louder.

But Yama smiles at her really big, like she was helpful. “Eri! I didn’t know you knew English!”

Eri nods, and she’s happy that she made Yama happy, but also because the heroes stopped laughing at Kaminari and started looking at her. “Twe- um, Shinsou taught me! He taught me the alphabet, and how to say some stuff!”

Twenny looks at her kind of scared, because maybe he’s worried that Zawa would get mad at Eri for almost calling him Twenny. Zawa told her to try not to do that at school, and she tries not to, but she knows he won’t get really mad like Him if she doesn’t say stuff right. But not even Yama is mad about that, he’s just really happy that Eri knows English. “Let’s hear it! Take the stage, little, uh, listener!”

Zawa must have told Yama not to call her ‘little bean’ at school too, because it kind of sounded like he was going to. Eri stands up on her chair, even though she’s not really supposed to, but the heroes wouldn’t be able to see her if she stood up by her desk. “A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z!”

Yama starts clapping, and some of the heroes do too. Some of the other heroes are still picking on Kaminari, but she tries to give them a mean face to stop them. Yama also gives them a mean look, and that stops them, but he’s back to smiling when he looks at Eri. “Can you say ‘ Hello’ or ‘ Goodbye ’?”

Eri remembers how to say ‘Hello’, but Twenny didn’t teach her what ‘ Goodbye ’ means. “Twenny didn’t teach me a whole lot, ‘cause-”

“I didn’t,” Twenny says, even though he doesn’t look at her because he’s too busy scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t teach you how to say it right.”

Twenny sounds like he’s kind of embarrassed about that, but Yama tells his class all the time that even if they don’t know how to say something hard, they should always try. Eri pats his head to make him feel better. 

“It’s okay, Twenny! We’re in English class, so we can learn how to say it right from now on!” Twenny still looks like he doesn’t want her to say the words he taught her, but Yama looks like he really does. “ ‘ Hello! My name is Eri! I’m a good girl!’ ”

A lot of heroes make ‘Aww’ sounds, and Yama covers his mouth like he does sometimes when he doesn’t want to make a weird noise or laugh. But Eri knows he’s not trying to laugh at her, he’s probably just embarrassed to make that weird sound that he does when she does something cute.

“ ‘ Are you from America? Can you take me with you? ’ ” Eri wants to say everything she knows, so she can make sure she says them right, but Twenny pulls on her dress like he wants her attention, and makes the ‘ Danger ’ sign at her. It doesn’t really make sense that he does it, but maybe he’s worried that she’s going to fall off her chair, so she jumps down and sits in it right.

Ocha stands up with her hand raised, but she doesn’t wait for Yama to call on her. “Present Mic-sensei! We need to have a field trip to America!”

“My family’s company will be able to offer a sponsorship-” Momo says, but a lot of heroes start talking over her while they try to convince Yama to let them go to America.

“HOLD ON!” Yama says, yelling really loud so the heroes stop yelling at him. When they do, he puts his hand on his chin in a Thinking Yama pose. “I can have a budget worked up just in time for the semi-quarter staff meeting, and if I work it around to say that you guys need more interaction with native speakers, maybe find a few exchange programs with the American hero schools-”

“ ‘ Florida!’ ” Kaminari shouts, throwing his fists in the air. “ ‘ Disneyworld! ’ ”

Yama’s eyes go really big, and then he smiles super big too. “ ‘ YES!’ Kaminari, you’re a ‘ GENIUS!’ ”

The heroes get super excited, and all of them start yelling about how much they want to go to ‘ Disneyworld.’ Even Twenny seems like he’s not scared anymore, since he starts working on his test again, and he’s even smiling.

“Aw man, thanks Shinsou!” Kirishima says, turning around to look at Twenny. “We’ve been trying to get Mic-sensei to take us to ‘ Disneyworld’ all year, and thanks to you and Eri, he really can’t say no!”

“What’s ‘ Disneyworld ?’ ” Eri asks. It must be a really fun place if all the heroes are excited about it.

“It’s the happiest place on Earth!” Hagakure says, bouncing up and down like she does when she’s excited. “There’s roller coasters and fun rides and American food and cute cartoon animals! Mickey Mouse is there too! If you go to America, you’ve GOT to go to ‘ Disneyworld! ’ ”

Eri looks at Twenny, and pulls on his sleeve because he looks like he’s really busy with his test. “I’m glad your plan didn’t work, Twenny! Now we both get to go to ‘ Disneyworld,’ instead of just me!”

Twenny looks at her really scared, like she really messed something up, but she doesn’t know what he’s scared of. Nothing bad happens at school, but Twenny thinks that a lot of bad things happen here, even though she’s tried to tell him they won’t.

“What plan?” Hagakure asks, and she stops bouncing. Eri doesn’t know why she isn’t excited anymore, but maybe she’s just confused because she doesn’t know about the plans that Twenny made when they were in the room. Maybe Twenny hadn’t told the heroes about them yet, because he was embarrassed that a lot of them didn’t work.

“Twenny made a lot of ‘get out’ plans for us! He taught me how to say stuff in English so if I got out but he got lost, then I could go to America and be safe! ‘Cause we thought He couldn’t go to America, but then we found out He could, so Twenny made other plans,” Eri starts squeezing her hands like Yama taught her, just in case she started thinking about Him and it made her dizzy. “Twenny even told me to talk to heroes if I got outside, and that’s how I met Izuku and Mirio! And that’s why we both got out, instead of just me!”

Eri looks up, because the heroes aren’t yelling anymore. A lot of them are staring at her like she said something weird again. Even Yama is kind of staring at her like that, and she really doesn’t like it.

“Y-You didn’t think Togata-sempai was American?” Izuku says, trying to smile at her but he always gets kind of nervous when he talks in class. “C-cause, I mean, he looks kind of like- with the blonde hair and everything-”

“I resemble that remark!” Yama says, like he’s play-mad. “It seems like you guys need a crash-course on what Americans look like before we head off to ‘ Disneyworld!’ Let’s start by naming American actors, you guys call out a name, and I’ll put them up on the screen!”

Yama starts setting up the projector while a lot of the heroes start yelling names. After Yama finishes getting set up, he puts pictures of people up on the screen and picks a hero to tell him what they look like in English.

Eri doesn’t think that’s what they were supposed to do in class today, but she’s kind of happy that Yama does it.

But Twenny still looks really scared, even after the heroes stop looking at him.

*

What Shinsou didn’t know about coffee, was that it often caused a crash.

The kid put up a good fight. Aizawa noticed that he was dragging his feet when he walked into the staff room, that he was slouched over his exam so heavily that sleep would take him in just a matter of time. The teen kept glancing over at him, as though the movement could put off the inevitable, but in the end, his head fell against his arm on the desk and his breathing evened out.

Aizawa didn’t protest when Eri started glancing between the sleeping bag and Shinsou. He gave her permission to use it. She had to stand on her tip-toes to reach, but the sleeping bag was now tucked over Shinsou’s shoulders, and no longer an option for him to use.

The ache in Aizawa’s limbs might be put off for a few more hours if he indulged in a second cup, so he started brewing the sub-par coffee that Nezu kept ordering for the staff room. He probably did it out of spite, a lingering resentment to the humans that he couldn’t torment as well as the students, but UA certainly had the budget for something better.

Eri shifted her weight between her feet, the only indication of nervousness he needed to focus his attention on her. “Is something wrong?”

Eri tilted her head at him. “Twenny’s acting really scared today. Is it ‘cause he has the Mondays?”

Aizawa couldn’t help the smile pulling at his lips, a bit relieved that she seemed to think that ‘Mondays’ were some kind of illness, but not one that she considered dangerous. “I think that Shinsou had a rough morning. School can be overwhelming at times, but Class 1-A might be making it worse. They want to connect with Shinsou in ways he’s not ready for yet.”

Eri looks over at Shinsou, nodding. “He’ll feel better after a nap, though. He was kinda grumpy at Monoma, ‘cause Monoma really wanted to look at his test. Kendo had to chop him a couple times before he stopped.”

Aizawa hums, recalling Hizashi’s suspicions about that particular member of Class B’s interest in Shinsou. If Monoma wasn’t careful, his little crush might end up earning him far greater injuries than Kendo seemed to cause on a daily basis. “I wonder if Kan will let me move her into Class A. They could certainly use her firm hand.”

Of course, Kan had been vehemently opposed to the idea. “ You had a reason to pass them over before, and you should have realized that having an uneven number would cause problems during training. Find a kid from GenEd instead of stealing one of mine! ”

At the beginning of the year, he didn’t think having 19 students would be an issue. It wasn’t unusual for him to expel or transfer half of the group that he started out with. His current class was the first to make it this far without a single change in the roster, and by this point, he had given up on waiting for one of them to fail. Even Hagakure was becoming more confident in being placed in the hero course, much to Powerloader’s disappointment.

Eri started eying the couch against the wall, her eyelids starting to look heavier. She had been a bit more lethargic the past few days, and Aizawa had no doubt that her quirk building up might have affected that. Just like with Shinsou’s quirk, he was surprised that she hadn’t had any issues with it until now based on how often Chisaki had forced her to use it.

When he saw the small yawn and the glance in his direction, he gave up all hope for that second cup, and accepted the aching hips that would no doubt linger the rest of the day. Just like the coffee machine, he was sure Nezu selected a couch that wasn’t well-padded in the middle, meaning that the cross beam from the frame dug into the spine of whoever was naive enough to try to sleep on it.

That might have been an attack on Aizawa, but the animal principal would never let him know.

At this point, he didn’t need to ask if Eri wanted to take a nap. He knew as soon as he laid down, she would make herself comfortable, curled up on his shoulder and clinging to his side. With the narrowness of the couch, that wasn’t exactly feasible, but she made it work out for her. She dug her sharp little knees into his stomach and pulled herself on top of him with a hand fisted in his shirt, and despite nearly knocking the wind out of him, she felt nearly weightless on his chest.

Eri sighed as though this was the most comfortable position in the world, right as he felt the sharp edge of that wooden beam on his lower back. He tucked an arm around her back, just in case she happened to roll off of him, and accepted his fate. He didn’t have a patrol tonight, wouldn’t have one tomorrow. His body shouldn’t get used to this odd reprieve from injury.

Being beaten up by a sleepy 5 year old certainly wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him.

That would probably be waking up to Midnight’s shit eating grin.

“Hm, daycare workers aren’t supposed to nap during naptime. And you’re out of uniform too,” Nemuri teased, earning a glare that she had built up an immunity to years ago.

Aizawa brushed his hair away from his face, finding the ends of it still trapped in Eri’s hold. He couldn’t feel his legs at this point, but he had a slightly greater concern. “Where’s Shinsou?”

“Napping all by his lonesome,” Nemuri pouted playfully, before it cut into an accusatory smirk. “But I’m glad he has rights to the sleeping bag.”

Satisfied, Aizawa looked down at his current situation. There didn’t seem to be a way to adjust his position without waking Eri up. He would have to accept that he wouldn’t have the use of his legs until she did, even if that meant that there was no escape for him.

“There was this odd memo in my inbox this morning,” Nemuri said, pressing a finger to her chin. “I think someone stole your identity, and now they’re trying to-“

“I have wards,” Aizawa interrupted, watching Eri’s foot kick the cushion in hopes that the other would follow suit. “I don’t have time for whatever you’re plotting to do to me tomorrow, and they don’t need the added stress.”

Her smile, at first irritatingly amused, became sinister as she met his eyes. “Aizawa. Modeling behavior means that you have to teach them how to celebrate a birthday.” Damn her. “Don’t worry, I’ve already made the adjustments. We’ll have party streamers and hats, and the cake won’t even have a stripper inside. All you have to do is smile and be a happy little birthday boy.”

He sighed, his head falling back on the arm rest as Eri decided that her foot was more comfortable on his thigh than at his side. “Shinsou does not need this right now. With Eri’s quirk and…” He stopped, watching Eri whine and pull herself up a bit further, worried that she had heard her name or was having a nightmare. Another sigh and she relaxed, and he spoke a bit more softly. “We have a lead. One that he needs to talk about.”

Nemuri’s eyes were softened as she watched the 5 year old slumber on his chest, but they hardened when they looked at him. “I was worried you were going to say he doesn’t need to know what a birthday looks like because he wouldn’t be your ward by then.”

That was something that Aizawa didn’t want to think about.

It was the nature of wardships that they ended. There was an investigation to complete, and when the ward was out of danger, they were removed from the hero’s home after a suitable one was found.

He imagined that he and Hizashi would have a fair amount of input to decide where Shinsou would be placed, what family would take him in. Hizashi would be thorough, he would know the signs to look out for from firsthand experience, and he imagined even Hizashi’s mother would pull from all the contacts she had in the foster care system to make sure that Shinsou would be safe and well-cared for.

And the 5 year old sleeping so peacefully now would lose the only family she ever had. 

He doubted she would ever forgive them for it, and he honestly wouldn’t blame her. As unhealthy as it was beneath the surface, Shinsou and Eri’s relationship was vital to each of them. They were safety to each other, a familiar balm to their wounds. Eri was only slightly better adjusted to the company of others, but if she had to be parted from him again and know that he wasn’t missing, he was just away in a place that he belonged and she didn’t, she would reject them. 

She would hate them.

“I don’t think Shinsou’s the only one worried about Eri’s quirk,” Nemuri whispered, trailing her fingers over his arm, knowing that it was trapped around Eri’s waist.

“Shinsou said it was triggered by pain. Emotional as well, it seems,” Aizawa explained, running his fingers through the ends of Eri’s hair. “He knows more about her quirk than I do, and I can’t assume his anxiety is unfounded.”

“Then you need to ask him about it,” Nemuri says, as though it were that easy.

“He doesn’t trust me,” Aizawa whispers. “To ask him to trust me with Eri’s quirk, after what Chisaki did-“

Nemuri chuckled quietly, her eyes wandering from his still numb feet to the arm around Eri’s waist. “If he saw this, I think he’d be convinced.”

“Or threatened.”

Nemuri rolls her eyes, rising to walk to the coffee machine and help herself to the pot he brewed. “So pessimistic-“

“Mom?”

Aizawa sits up before he realizes it, and though his arm is still holding Eri to his chest, she wakes with bleary eyes and a swaying head, before she lays back down. He still can’t see Shinsou very well from this angle, only the edge of his shoulder and arm as it rises to touch his head. He wishes he could tell if he was checking for a muzzle after what he said, to tell Naomasa to add it to Shinsou Ui’s charges.

Shinsou jolts to standing, his chair squealing against the floor before his head pops over the cubicle wall. Even the red imprint of his arm on the side of his face can’t detract from his clear panic, which softens with an audible exhale when he sees Eri.

And that was honestly a bit surprising.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Midnight calls, making sure that Shinsou wouldn’t be alarmed to find her presence later on. He still seemed surprised, a flash of a frown afterwards, but half-signed ‘Good Morning’ back to her before he remembered he wouldn’t be understood.

“Shinsou signed ‘Good Morning,’ ” Aizawa translates, catching another glance in his direction from the teen. “Though he doesn’t have to be polite to you. ”

Nemuri hummed, stirring the creamer in her cup as she leaned her back against the counter, making sure her body language was open, relaxed. Catching that Shinsou was still evaluating her threat level. “Shinsou is a very polite young man, despite the company he has to keep. Hopefully, he’ll be a good influence on you.”

Aizawa noticed that Shinsou’s attention had been caught by something, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Was it the whip at Midnight’s side? Had he been-

‘ Coffee. ’

Aizawa considered turning his head away to give Shinsou the impression that he hadn’t seen him sign that, but decided against it. “You can’t have coffee. Chiyo was very strict about that, and you wouldn’t like the flavor of that one. It’s only slightly better than instant. ”

Midnight shot him a smirk, wordlessly mocking him for having a taste for good coffee. He didn’t have one until he and Hizashi started dating, the blonde latching on to the one place that Aizawa would enjoy going to take him to increasingly expensive coffee shops. By their 6 month anniversary, Aizawa had lost the ability to stomach instant.

They hadn’t told Shinsou that he couldn’t stomach it either, not until his health improved. The purple haired teen didn’t protest, but his eyes remained locked on Nemuri’s cup, who wasn’t cruel enough to drink out of it yet. Aizawa didn’t doubt that the teen was trying to devise a way to get coffee despite his denial.

Before Aizawa could come up with a good distraction, Hizashi and Toshinori entered the staff room, Hizashi still laughing at a joke that seemed to be at the retired hero’s expense. The sound of Hizashi’s voice woke Eri completely, her heel digging into his hip bone when she sprang up to pull Shinsou towards the bathroom to wash their hands.

He trusted Hizashi to make sure the hall was safe as the wards made their trip while he tried to rub the feeling back into his legs.

“How underweight is he?” Nemuri asked, finally partaking in her coffee.

“Very,” Aizawa answered, hissing as a sharp pain announced the pins and needles running down half of his body. “Eri was in far better condition.” He’s almost certain that Shinsou was the reason for that.

“I happened to have a conversation with Recovery Girl about that,” Toshinori said, setting down a white box at the cubicle Shinsou had been sitting at. “It turns out that I’m a bit of an expert, considering my own condition. I have some supplements that will help, and these cupcakes are well-within his limits. I think they’re rather tasty myself.”

Aizawa hummed, sending his husband a pointed look. “Thank you, Toshinori. It’s nice to have someone take precautions with Shinsou’s health.”

Hizashi sputtered. “Look, I really couldn’t - it was the first real question he asked! If I didn’t reward that-”

Midnight tsked. “Whipped. Both of you are absolutely whipped , and it’s infecting the entire school. Even the students who haven’t met them yet are talking about making offerings to UA’s new mascots for good luck on their midterms.”

Aizawa wondered if Nezu would still receive a pile of anonymously sent teas outside his office door next week. If he would be insulted if he didn’t.

If he would have to defend his wards against his boss if he didn’t.

*

Midoriya finished the last of his dumpling set, wondering if he should return to Lunch Rush for a second serving or if the food just hadn’t settled in his stomach yet. He was still trying to catch up on the calories he burned from training with Kacchan so much over the weekend. Kacchan had a habit of approaching him or Kirishima to go out and spar when something irritated him, and Shinsou’s comments in the group chat seemed to bring that out a lot.

That was pretty concerning, but he knew Kacchan wouldn’t talk to him about it. And he trusted that after the fight he had with Shinsou, most of his threats were just bluster and pride. Most of them.

Midoriya startled as Ashido slammed her tray into the empty space between himself and Tokoyami, huffing as she did. “I’m sitting with the smart kids today, because NOBODY in Bakusquad has any brain cells at all!”

Midoriya looked to see Jirou slump further into her chair, and Kirishima send him a guilty shrug. Bakugo caught his eye for only a second before he kicked his chair out and started calling after Monoma.

“The name ‘Bakusquad’ gives the impression that you’re all very insular,” Tokoyami mused, sending a glare towards the window as the sky brightened, the clouds parting for a moment. “Perhaps it’s regrettably self-imposed.”

Ashido tore open a bag of chips violently, sending several scattering across the table. When she noticed, she gave a frustrated shout and buried her hands in her hair. “AUGH! Why is it Monday?! Why do Mondays exist?! Can’t we just stop having Mondays and name them something else?!”

“The assumption that Mondays are bad luck is a self-fulfilling prophecy, kero,” Tsuyu said, tongue darting out to snatch one of Ashido’s chips as payment for her two-cents.

Ochako nodded. “Just pretend it’s Tuesday! Then, you won’t be blaming bad luck on a Monday, so you won’t have to go through the day thinking that something worse is going to happen!”

Ashido took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Okay. That’s a good plan. It’s Tuesday now, the curse is broken-”

“Curses can’t be broken so easily,” Tokoyami chuckled, while Shoji rolled his eyes.

“Midoriya. Hug,” Ashido demanded, holding her arms open for him. Despite how awkward it felt to hug Ashido in such a public place, Midoriya did, tucking an arm around her shoulders while she squeezed him so tight that he worried that there might be a reason she usually went to Kirishima for this. Eventually, she sighed in relief, slapping his back hard enough that he could feel every bruise under her palm. “Much better. Now the curse is definitely broken.”

Todoroki stared at Midoriya, either forgetting that his ability to not blink for long periods of time was a little unsettling, or considering whether to have another theory talk to dispel any tension in the air. “Why have you abandoned Bakugo’s pack today?”

Midoriya really hoped this wouldn’t turn into another ‘Bakugo is a werewolf’ discussion.

“Because I need smart brains to help me with something,” Ashido answered, smiling as she tossed a chip in the air to catch it in her mouth. And didn’t wait to swallow before she started talking again. “So, I’ve got this friend, and he doesn’t like being touched-”

“Shinsou,” Todoroki assumed, and hit the nail right on the head, judging by the way Ashido froze.

“Jeez, I really am at the right table,” Ashido muttered, perhaps forgetting that she had threatened everyone in Class 1-A with both Aizawa’s and her own wrath in the changing rooms this morning. “Yeah, so I know that I said all that stuff already, and Sensei might probably kill me, like, for real, but… I need to hug him and I can’t so help?”

Iida looked up from his Hero Ethics textbook with a frown. “Aizawa-sensei is trusted with Shinsou’s care, and if he believes that physical contact with Shinsou would be detrimental, we should abide by his words.”

“But, it’s Sensei we’re talking about here!” Ashido said, chopping her hand over her tray to either mock Iida or just subconsciously mirroring his habits. “He probably doesn’t see anything wrong with that! Does he even hug Eri?”

“He does! He, um,” Midoriya trailed off, scratching his head nervously as he noticed everyone’s stares, his voice dropping to a mutter. “She says they cuddle a lot, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“But does Shinsou get cuddles?” Kaminari asked, standing behind Midoriya with a hand cupped around his chin. “Does he even get the Good Boy pat?”

Ashido narrowed her eyes at Kaminari, but turned and huffed instead of acknowledging him directly. Yaoyorozu didn’t look up from her Art History textbook, still reading as she spoke. “Humans require 17 positive touches a day to avoid detriment to their mental health. Ashido might have a justifiable concern.”

“See! So, let’s get cracking, Smarties!” Ashido cheered, waiting eagerly for a response.

Todoroki placed his chopsticks on his tray, meeting Ashido’s eyes. “I have a theory.”

Ashido nodded encouragingly, while Midoriya hoped it wasn’t the one Todoroki had told him and Koda about yesterday.

“I believe we were lied to about the nature of Shinsou’s quirk.” Midoriya fought the urge to cover his face, his suspicions already confirmed. “Eri’s fear of cats. Soba’s hostile reaction to him. Aizawa-sensei’s protectiveness. They’re all connected.”

Ashido started nodding more vigorously with every pause Todoroki took, and at this point, everyone but Midoriya was watching with anticipation.

“Shinsou’s quirk allows him to turn into a cat.”

Ashido froze, then collapsed face-down on the table, whining. “That’s not his-“

“He was supposed to keep Eri from escaping by transforming whenever she attempted it. She would be paralyzed with fear from the sight. Soba is very territorial, and could tell that Shinsou was an intruder in his domain. And Aizawa-sensei is a cat person. He instinctively knows what would make Shinsou uncomfortable, but he seems to be at a loss in some areas, which is why he had that book.” Todoroki explained, nonplussed by Ashido’s reaction. “ ‘Loving Your Feral Cat.’ Shinsou may not have been socialized early on in his life-“

“He was!” Ashido argues, springing up. “I know his quirk, I know- I knew Shinsou!”

“Feral cats are unique,” Todoroki continues, barely seeming to register Ashido’s outburst. “In that they don’t trust human contact at first. Trust has to be built through offerings, and small steps. By offering your hand like this,” Todoroki lifts his hand, fingers remaining limp. “They can decide whether to approach, to rub against your hand or smell it to get used to your scent.”

Ashido paused, then mirrored Todoroki’s hand. “So, they can choose, right? So it’s not scary….”

Kaminari held out his hand to Ashido, palm facing her. “High five?”

Ashido beamed, slapping Kaminari’s palm so loudly that students from the surrounding tables looked over. “Kaminari, you’re on a roll today! Looks like you’ll be sitting with the smart kids in no time!”

Kaminari grinned back, shaking his hand as he withdrew it. “So, coming back to Bakutable-“

“Nope!” Ashido rejected, crossing her arms in front of her for emphasis. “If I stay here, my GPA will get better just through that osmoso-thingy. And Ocha needs to give me her chocolate covered potato chip hookup.”

Kaminari’s eyes widened, then moved to sit in Ashido’s chair with her. They managed to make it work, both of them half-falling off the chair, and while Ashido talked to Ochako about the specialty snack shop in the mall, Kaminari laid his head on the table, stroking it as though to encourage the type of osmosis both he and Ashido were hoping for.

Midoriya didn’t have the heart to tell them that there was a vacant chair at the table right behind them.

*

Aizawa should have taken advantage of Shinsou’s surprising friendliness towards Toshinori, and asked the retired hero to watch him during his free period.

While he ignored the other teachers who filtered into the staff room, something that Midnight had probably orchestrated so that both wards would be more familiar with them before tomorrow, Shinsou paid a great deal of attention to Toshinori. At first, it was to wave off the carrot cupcakes and apologize for Friday, which Toshinori in turn waved off as an accident and ill-planning on his part. 

Shinsou didn’t eat any of the cupcakes, and might have been making conversation to distract from that, but the things he signed had seemed like genuine attempts to connect with Toshinori. He even translated the retired hero’s catch phrase into JSL, which Toshinori had apparently taught himself, sputtering that he was touched by the gesture before Hizashi could translate for Shinsou.

Now that Aizawa is faced with the threshold of Class 3-A’s Hero Ethics, he realized that those attempts might not have been entirely genuine, but manipulative. Shinsou might have been under the impression that Toshinori was seeking to use Eri’s quirk to regain the former strength of his own, and was deliberately making himself closer to the retired hero to determine whether he was truly a threat.

And now Shinsou would be sitting behind Togata, someone that he knew would need Eri’s quirk in the near future. Eri had told Shinsou herself, and hadn’t exactly hidden her excitement about her growing horn, as even now she had a hand raised to feel it. She might be considering hiding it to reveal to Togata with a flourish, promising the student that she would be able to fix his quirk soon.

A glance at Shinsou’s stiffened posture and blank face confirmed that he wasn’t likely to treat Togata with any friendliness, and the hand hovering close to his knife made Aizawa uneasy.

“Amajiki, switch seats with Togata,” Aizawa ordered as soon as he entered 3-A’s classroom. He didn’t look to see if any students were confused by that, keeping his expression blank as he placed his notes on the podium. The sound of chairs being pushed back to comply was interrupted by Eri’s predictable outburst, which immediately drew his attention.

“Look, Mirio!” Eri exclaimed, pointing at her horn and beaming at the blonde student. “My horn grew! My quirk is gonna work soon!”

Togata smiled back at her, too surprised to hide the hope apparent in his eyes, ruffling her hair excitedly. Amajiki’s smile was a mix of hope, relief, and pleading for Eri’s quirk to return Togata’s before the semester ended, or else he would have to graduate without his oldest friend at his side. “I’m really happy about that, Eri-”

“Tell me if it starts to hurt, Eri,” Shinsou interrupted, his voice too low and threatening to be truly meant for her ears. Aizawa couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he knew by Amajiki’s narrowed eyes that it just as threatening as his tone, and directed at Togata. “I know it can be extremely painful at times.”

Eri turned to Shinsou with a frown, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion over why Shinsou would mention that now. Togata’s falling smile was kept hidden from her, as was the way he withdrew his hand and shot a glance in Aizawa’s direction. 

But the smile returned when Togata spoke to Eri. “You should definitely let Shinsou or Aizawa-sensei know, Eri. I don’t want you to be in any kind of pain. Even if it’s just a little tiny ache, you have plenty of heroes to save you from it!”

Shinsou guided Eri to her desk, not so subtly moving it closer to his with his foot hooked around the leg. While Togata stared at the board, still refusing to let his smile drop, Amajiki glared at his desk. The other students of 3-A mirrored Amajiki’s reaction, and Aizawa doubted that his lecture would truly be heard by any of them.

He tried to engage them more often to distract them, and more than once had to erase Shizuo’s quirk when their spines subtly extended, taking Shinsou’s locked stare at Togata as a more immediate threat than it was. He counted himself lucky that Shinsou didn’t notice, knowing that an obvious threat from Shizuo wouldn’t be taken lightly in his already heightened state.

Eri also didn’t notice the tension in the air, distracted by a drawing that he hoped wasn’t a gift for Togata.

The chime to announce the end of the class period came with only a brief moment of relief before Aizawa noticed Amajiki stand and turn to Shinsou, his back straightened from his usual slouch. Eri took advantage of Shinsou’s attention being focused elsewhere to hand off her gift to Togata, which he accepted with his usual heartfelt appreciation.

“I don’t think you know Togata very well,” Amajiki said, his voice even and confident in a way that only seemed to occur when he was speaking about his friend. “I think if you did, you would know why even now he’s a peerless hero.”

Shinsou’s jaw clenched, but he refused to break the staredown he was having with Amajiki until Togata clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Tamaki, don’t say embarrassing things like that! Just be direct and tell Shinsou that you want us to play Pokemon Go together sometime!”

Amajiki deflated, the redness on the tips of his pointed ears revealing that had been something the student wanted to do before today. Nejire took advantage of the other members of Big Three being distracted to scoop Eri into her arms, holding her to her chest like a teddy bear as she joined the discussion. “Right?! Tamaki’s super embarrassing! And he’s a super duper big nerd about Pokemon! It’s embarrassing! You should see for yourself how embarrassing it is!”

Shinsou seemed to find something reassuring in Eri’s contentment in being treated like an oversized doll, his glare flickering before he seemed to relax. ‘ Fine. I don’t… ’

His hands twitched before he laid them back on the desk, tension working its way back into his jaw while he stared at them. Before Aizawa could translate for him, Shinsou surprised him completely.

“Okay,” Shinsou spoke, still refusing to look up from the desk. His eyes narrowed, his jaw working around another word that he wasn’t able to form, but he was distracted by Togata’s loud cheer.

“Yes! I’m excited! I can’t wait to show you all the gyms me and Tamaki control! It’s supposed to be super sunny on Wednesday, so maybe we can catch some exclusive sun-type Pokemon!” Togata said, drawing Shinsou’s gaze back to him though it lacked the hostility from before. “You’re Team Instinct, right? Or maybe Mystic, like Tamaki-”

“You three are going to be late for your next class,” Aizawa interrupted, hoping to avoid the possibility of Togata asking to see Shinsou’s phone to check. Nejire whined as she set Eri back down, begging to take her to their next class so they could spend the rest of the day playing with each other’s hair. Aizawa wasn’t sure why Shinsou didn’t react to that as a threat, or why he waved goodbye to Nejire without prompting.

But if Shinsou’s attitude could flip so quickly between threat and friendliness, Aizawa could only assume that they were both used with the same intention. To protect Eri by violence or manipulation, whichever suited his perception of the situation.

He found himself hoping Shinsou chose to be threatening when they met again for Class 1-A’s homeroom.

*

Yamada could have found himself a little disappointed in Shinsou wordlessly deciding to work on his exam rather than taking a break for an English lesson, but the budget he committed to planning wasn’t going to make itself.

The silence from his wards as they worked on their lessons seemed a little stifling, though. Yamada found himself glancing up from his phone just to make sure they were still there, the pauses between Shinsou’s pen clicks and Eri’s page-turning seeming to grow a bit longer as the period went on.

And just as both wards seemed to have something they were worried about, they both looked up to bring it up at the same time. ‘ I don’t- ’

“Yama, can you teach me English?” Eri asked, unaware that Shinsou had started signing.

Yamada looked to each ward, unsure who he should address first until Shinsou folded his hands and looked at Eri. A wide smile overtook Yamada’s face with the decision made for him. “Of course! I’d be happy to! I’ll have to find some workbooks for us to do it right, because I’ve only taught high school level English. But is there anything you want to learn today, like numbers or how to say good morning?”

“I wanna learn how to say the stuff Twenny taught me right,” Eri answered, unaware of the clench in Shinsou’s hand.

Yamada tried to keep his own uneasiness from becoming noticeable. Eri said that Shinsou had taught her to approach a tourist if he got ‘lost’ during an escape attempt, but Yamada knew what he really meant by that. He didn’t like thinking about what Shinsou must have felt when he made those plans, didn’t want to know how many he made with the intention of laying down his own life for Eri’s.

How close he was to doing something reckless before the raid took place, and the heroes he had given up on finally arrived.

“I don’t really have anything to teach you there,” Yamada said, leaning against the back of his chair. “English is pretty tricky to speak sometimes, but you did a really great job! You and Shinsou must have practiced a lot.”

Eri looked to Shinsou, expecting him to be as pleased with his praise as she was, but the purple haired teen refused to look up from his desk. “Twenny, Yama said I did it right! You did a good job teaching me, so don’t be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Shinsou answered, resting a hand on Eri’s head while he turned to look at her. “I’m happy about that.”

Neither Yamada nor Eri were convinced by Shinsou’s flat tone. “Were you going to sign something, Shinsou?” Yamada asked, hoping his answer would distract Eri from prodding further, and Shinsou from the memories that her interest in English seemed to bring up.

Shinsou pulled his hand away with a flash of a frown, hesitating before he answered. ‘ I don’t have plans. ’

He might have wanted to sign more, but his hands were shaking too badly for it. Shinsou pressed them together on his desk and shrank in on himself, still not looking up from his desk.

Yamada wished it had been just painful memories that caused Shinsou to recoil like that. That he had tried to stop Eri from speaking in 1-A’s English class because of those memories, or even a fear of disappointing Yamada somehow. That Shinsou had refused to look at him during lunch because he wanted to talk to Toshinori.

That Shinsou wasn’t trembling in fear of Yamada like he would if Chisaki had discovered those plans.

Yamada had no idea how Shouta could stand it. 

He could feel his own heart being ripped apart, betrayed by that comparison and desperate to prove it wrong. Not because Yamada didn’t want to be seen as a villain, or was hurt that Shinsou could think of him that way after all their progress, but because the kid was safe. Shinsou was safe, but so used to terror that he didn’t recognize it, couldn’t know the difference between heroes and villains when both had failed him in different ways. He wanted to scream that it was different, that this was what Shinsou had always deserved, but words were nothing in the face of what Shinsou had been violently taught to expect.

“It’s okay, Shinsou,” Yamada tried to keep the distress from his voice, tried to be reassuring even if he had no idea how. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did. You shouldn’t feel trapped here. I’m really proud of you, to be honest. A lot of people wouldn’t have had the guts to try to get out, but you did. And in the end, you beat him, right? You both came out safe.”

Shinsou flinches at the vague mention of Chisaki, too vulnerable to hide it, but he looks at Yamada with wide eyes that aren’t entirely out of fear. That bit of surprise in his expression gives him hope that Shinsou might remember this, might trust it just a little bit more.

“Yeah, Twenny! We’re safe now,” Eri adds, closing the distance between them to wrap her arms around his, holding him tightly. “We’re really really safe, I promise! You can’t be scared because we live with heroes, and they keep everyone safe! It’s Yama and Zawa’s job!”

“That’s right,” Yamada said, trying to distract Eri from trying to force Shinsou to believe her through her desperate pleading, sure that the kid would fake it for her sake. “Shou and I have one job that’s more important than all the others, and it’s keeping you guys safe. And other than a few slip ups with Soba and the students, I think we’re doing alright so far-“

‘ S-O-B-A not dangerous. Hero students not dangerous. ’ Shinsou paused, considering though his blank expression didn’t betray what was on his mind. ‘ I’m not weak. ’

That expression couldn’t tell Yamada whether he meant that as a threat, out of pride, or an attempt to convince himself of it. The kid hadn’t given them any indication that not being able to use his quirk bothered him, his muteness only seemed to be an issue when he tried to communicate with others who didn’t know JSL. But Shinsou was a little weaker because of it, and he hoped the confidence he had now wouldn’t break later on.

“I know you’re not, kiddo,” Yamada reassured. “I’ve never thought you were. We’re not protecting you because you’re weak, it’s because you deserve it. Because I want you guys to feel safe.”

The bell announcing the end of the period came at the worst time, just as he caught a flicker of Shinsou’s eyebrows rising and knotting, eyes wide in a confused and desperate way. And that was all covered up by the mask before Yamada could think to soothe it, to insist once again that Shinsou was safe in the hopes that his vulnerability would let him understand it.

Yamada would tell him as many times as he needed to, would prove it every chance that he had.

Shinsou was safe now. And he would start to believe it in time.

NC

Aizawa thought he had escaped any more interactions with his students today, but Bakugo had a tendency to appear just as the relief from that thought began to settle in him.

His student was still engrossed in his phone, leaning against the security guard’s booth as he waits for someone to leave campus. This is apparently a habit of his, if the complaints he’s ignored from other members of UA’s staff are any indication. As a student without a provisional hero license, Bakugo can’t leave campus without an escort, which most students arrange beforehand.

Bakugo has apparently found that harassing anyone unlucky enough to pass by this exit is a way to circumvent that.

Aizawa nearly makes it. He keeps his footsteps light, slow, movements to a minimum. Bakugo shouldn’t have noticed him with the distraction of the phone, but he must have smelled the relief that came to Aizawa too early. “Oi! I need to go to the combini, sign off on that shit.”

Aizawa closes his eyes, regretting that he wanted to leave early. Someone else could have fallen victim to Bakugo’s brand of highway banditry. “You should arrange these trips beforehand.” He pointedly doesn’t offer the teen to arrange them with him, or say that he should have mentioned it during homeroom.

Bakugo just stares him down, finger pressed on the sign-out sheet until Aizawa gives in and fills it out. “Just because I’m being treated like a fucking 5 year old doesn’t mean I need to ask permission from Mommy.”

Aizawa hopes his blank stare as he clicks the pen and places it back on the clipboard reminds Bakugo that he’s still asking for permission, and that Aizawa certainly isn’t his mother. “If you’re wasting my time to buy something that’s already at the dorm, I’m adding 10 more pages to your assignment.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Bakugo asks, shoving his phone and his hands into his pockets as they walk through the gate as it opens. “Got cameras in the cabinets and shit? You should tell me who’s eating my Takis, haven’t caught the bastard yet.”

“There aren’t any cameras there, but I suspect Ashido is the culprit,” Aizawa answers, trying to walk ahead of Bakugo to avoid any further conversation, but his student just walks faster to keep the pace. “She has enough prior offenses to justify it.”

“She can’t fucking handle mild curry, so it’s not her,” Bakugo defends, forgetting that ‘mild’ to him was a level of spiciness worthy of being a food challenge. Luckily, his investigation into snack theft holds his interest enough to keep quiet for a few blocks, until they get to the convenience store. “Oi, this is the shitty one, the good one is-”

“It’s a combini,” Aizawa interrupts, struggling not to roll his eyes. “Get what you need here, or I’m taking you back to campus.”

Bakugo snarls at that, hands splayed open at his sides, but another escort thankfully informed him that using his quirk would end the trip immediately. “Fine.”

This time, he follows Bakugo, trying not to sigh when he notices his student pick up two baskets to carry his items. This was becoming a much longer trip than he anticipated.

Aizawa knows the cashier but doesn’t acknowledge his greeting, scanning the store for any other customers who aren’t as reformed as Bokunto has become. He never thought he’d have to buy first aid supplies and energy drinks from the pickpocket he arrested on a near-monthly basis, but if their interactions were ever as awkward for Bokunto as they were for him, he had a true talent for customer service by never letting him know.

Bakugo tips a few energy drinks into his basket, pausing before he tosses in a few bottles of tea, soda and coffee as well. At the candy aisle, he grabs three large mix-bags, seething as he does. Apparently, Eri’s comments struck a nerve but didn’t put too much of a damper on his absurd cravings. At the snack aisle, he fills the first basket with three Taki bags, but seems to be at a loss for what should go into the second. “Oi. The fuck does Shinsou like?”

Aizawa truly regrets wanting to leave early. Bakugo wouldn’t have asked any other victim, and if he did, their response wouldn’t be as incriminating as his. “I don’t know.”

Bakugo raises an eyebrow at him. “The fuck you mean, you don’t know? He lives with you. You feed him, right? He ain’t so damn twiggy because-”

“It’s touching that you would make an effort like this,” Aizawa interrupts, pleased to earn that frustrated growl that he intended with his words, as genuine as they were behind the mocking tone. “But Shinsou can’t eat any of this. Just buy your own snacks so we can leave.”

Bakugo plucks at one of the candy bags, glaring at him. “Tch, you don’t know this shit? When he gets a question right, he gets a piece of candy. Positive reinforcement shit.”

That must be why Kaminari’s grades improved after what he thought was Sato’s stash doubled in size. “As a teacher, I’m aware of that method.” He’s also aware that his students don’t deserve it. “You can’t feed Shinsou junk food, and he won’t eat it anyway.”

His statement of facts seems to be taken as encouragement to defy him, as Bakugo starts grabbing snacks at random, including things that he knows Bakugo doesn’t like. And Aizawa doesn’t like the reminder that he knows each of his students’ preferences in food, but he still doesn’t know Shinsou’s.

Eri told him that she didn’t like jello the second time he met her. It took a bit more time to work out what she liked to eat, but even before the festival he knew that she liked ketchup, especially because he used it to draw cats on her omurice.

“He doesn’t like oatmeal,” Bakugo mutters, shooting a glare at him that isn’t nearly as impressive as he thinks it is. “So don’t feed him that shit.”

Out of all of the students who could have slipped up, he didn’t think it would be Bakugo. He expected Midoriya to come to him with a concern, a battle between self-preservation and the urge to protect dancing behind his frozen green eyes when he asked, “How do you know that?” 

Aizawa eagerly awaits a flustered denial from his student, even if he knows it won’t be half as entertaining. Bakugo disappoints him, not for the first time. “The chat that Four Eyes set up. He talks a lot of shit in there, so I’m not being rude or shit by talking shit back to him. If he can dish it, he can take it.”

Beyond the disappointment, he finds himself a little surprised that Bakugo had some level of self-awareness regarding his abrasive personality. That his student knew that it should be tempered for someone like Shinsou or Eri, for children who wouldn’t know how to take his swearing and shouting for anything other than anger. Something that should be taken as a sign of danger, but Chisaki seemed to have kept his rage quiet.

“What kind of shit was he talking anyway? I’m learning, don’t make a fucking deal out of it, but if he said some off-the-wall bullshit earlier I need to beat the shit out of him,” Bakugo asks, his tone unnaturally demure in a way that can’t quite be blamed on his attention being focused on a box of fruit gummies.

“He was testing whether you could understand JSL, and encouraged you to work on your ability to threaten others,” Aizawa answers, wondering if he should have answered more vaguely to further encourage Bakugo’s interest in JSL. “I believe he also gave you a sign-name. It’s the first one he’s given, so you should feel honored by that.”

There’s an obvious fight to keep from smiling playing on his student’s features, before he turns it into that smug leer that someone should really tell him to stop doing. It’s incredibly villainous, especially from a hero in training. “Oh? I get a name before the brat does? Or you?”

It’s a fight to not betray his own amusement. “It appears so, ‘Blast-chan.’ ” 

The pay-off is glorious.

Frozen indignation gives way to rage, which in turn causes Bakugo to start destroying the box of fruit gummies as his hands turn into fists, struggling not to bring his quirk into play out of habit. And when he realizes that he has to buy the gummies now, despite how he seemed to still be unconvinced beforehand, the ensuing screech is deafening.

Aizawa has nothing else to say, keeping his attention on the customer swaying from intoxication as he enters the snack aisle. It’s not someone he knows from his own hero work, not a quirk that he can predict, but he’s relieved to put some distance between them when Bakugo stomps into the toy aisle, cackling to himself as he picks up a miniature purple haired Troll doll and throws it into the basket with childish glee.

Bokunto repeats his greeting as he begins scanning, which Bakugo dignifies with a surprisingly pleasant “Yo.” Aizawa keeps his eyes trained on the wall behind the check-out, finding himself a bit proud of Bokunto when he finds his picture under several ‘Employee of the Month’ slots, including the current one. He’s glad that he’s found honest work to be something to take pride in, instead of the number of wallets he could snatch by making his victim’s hips go numb with his quirk.

Before Bakugo takes out his wallet, Aizawa plucks the troll doll out of the pile to place in front of his student, handing his card to the cashier to cover the rest of the purchases. “Oi, I can pay for that shit-”

“You’re not spending your own money to feed my ward,” Aizawa interrupts, fully aware that several of those items were still meant for Bakugo. “Especially when he won’t eat any of this.”

Bakugo smirks at him, spinning the doll around by its hair. “Sure you can cover that, Mr. Lowest-Paid-Hero-In-The-Industry? Don’t want you breaking the fucking bank on some Takis.”

Aizawa seethes when he notices that Bokunto applied his employee discount. “It sounds like I need to assign a financial responsibility project, so that each of you can be prepared to make a budget with whatever income you find after graduation.” 30 pages. At least .

And a maximum of 50 for Midoriya and Iida.

He still makes Bakugo carry the purchases, his arms decorated with bulging plastic bags that look even more ridiculous when he shoves his hands in his pockets, out of habit it seems. The silence doesn’t suit him anymore, now that he remembers that the student who has the least quirk control will be in the same space with a ward who both knows how to trigger it, and will probably dissociate if he succeeds. “Present Mic will tell you again, but the moment you use your quirk, this study session will end.”

Bakugo scoffs behind him. “It’s not a fucking trigger. He didn’t fucking flinch earlier.”

As true as that was, Aizawa wouldn’t trust it. “Regardless, that’s my stipulation, and I expect you to not disappoint me. Don’t take this as an opportunity to pry into the investigation either.”

There’s a falter in Bakugo’s steps that worries him, but he doesn’t have to wait long to know the reason for it. “He said some shit about bleach baths. You know about that, right?”

Aizawa regrets not having Shinsou’s phone bugged, and wonders if it was possible to do so after the fact. Even if it contributed little to the investigation, he would at least know about these kinds of incidents, be able to help his students afterwards when he should have known to prepare them beforehand. “I do. How many of you know about that?”

“Everyone. All Might gave us the fucking rundown, how to handle trauma spills like a pro. Ashido cried, but she knows to keep that shit to herself from now on,” Bakugo answers, his use of the term ‘trauma spill’ a good indication that some part of this Trauma Project was working as intended. “Is that useful information shit or-”

“Report it to me, and I’ll determine that,” Aizawa interrupts. As much as he wants to keep his students away from the investigation, if Shinsou did tell them something relevant, he needed to know. “Was there anything else said in the chat?”

He glances over his shoulder when Bakugo doesn’t answer immediately, relieved to find his student cocking his head in thought. “He had a codename, ‘27.’ And he might have shot someone, I don’t know. Bitch talks too vague. He had gun training.”

“Training accidents aren’t usually fatal,” Aizawa lies, and hopes that much is enough to keep his own students from feeling the sick mix of guilt and horror inside himself.

Shinsou might have killed people.

That was something that Aizawa hadn’t allowed himself to fathom, stopping himself when he realized that he clearly knew how. Shinsou had been trained, he had been trained well and for a purpose. A purpose he chose to ignore, chose to focus on the lesser ways he could have been used for it.

He could have been used to kill. His quirk could incapacitate someone much like a paralysis quirk. By the time he had the weapon ready, he would be too close to the victim for them to fight back. The pain that would interrupt his control would be a fatal blow regardless.

It’s very little relief to know that Shinsou had likely never made that choice on his own. That Shinsou had likely never done anything out of his own free will. But the blood on his hands would never be washed away, if anything, it would be more difficult for him to bear as time went on. As he further integrated into honest society, and found fewer and fewer people around him with hands that were still stained that way.

He hopes that he’s wrong. That no matter what Shinsou had done, he had never been forced to go that far.

“Sensei,” Bakugo calls, and Aizawa looks up to see the front gate of UA in front of him. “Zoning out or some shit?”

“It’s been a long day,” Aizawa says, answering Bakugo’s unspoken concern. As the gates began to open, he plucked a bottled coffee from Bakugo’s bag, frowning to himself about the brand though he knew it was better than what the police station would offer.

“Oi, get your-“

“I bought it,” Aizawa reminds him, cracking the seal on the lid. “Behave yourself, or I’ll double your page count.”

Bakugo glares, then turns his head to the side with a hiss. “I’m not some fucking extra. You think the next number one hero can’t handle Shitsou? I’ll screw his head on so tight you’ll be begging him to shut up.”

As unlikely as that was, Aizawa would truly appreciate it.

Shinsou needed to talk.

*

Shitsou wasn’t stupid, and holy fuck, was that refreshing. 

Kaminari wasn’t stupid either, but his dumbass made it seem that way because the little shit couldn’t focus right. Sero tried to distract him whenever shit got too hard for his bitch ass, and Ashido whined too goddamn much. But Shitsou got shit. Explain something once and he fucking got it.

“Six candies over ten, divided by two over eight. Reduce that shit too,” Bakugo ordered, setting up the next problem on the floor. Shitsou only had one chair in his room, and there’s no way in hell he’s sitting on that bed, there’s no telling what that freak was into. And holy fuck, was his room boring as shit. Too fucking organized, too much gray. It looked like the bedroom for a serial killer or some military guy who never got that shit out of their system.

As soon as Shitsou leaves to take a piss, he’s definitely fucking up his lights to spell out ‘dick’ or something. Give this place some kind of fucking personality other than the creepy fucking cats on his desk.

And the one on his bed, but that might be Eri’s. It’d be fucking weird if Shitsou slept with a stuffed animal. He couldn’t even bully him for it, it’d just be that fucking weird.

“ Two and two-o fifths. Or two hu-undred and fo-orty perce-ent .” Shitsou’s creepy fucking Alexa app is going to give him nightmares if he keeps using it. It’s probably a good thing he hasn’t shown it to Kaminari, dumbass wouldn’t be able to handle himself.

“Oi, this shit too easy for you now? Talking shit about percentages?” Bakugo goads, but he’s fucking impressed. He mentioned that shit once and Shitsou has it down. “Fine, let’s start some fucking Algebra. Congrats on passing second grade.”

Shitsou’s still too stupid to know he’s supposed to eat the candy after Bakugo throws it at his face, but Sensei must know something about that. He just catches it and puts it in his pocket, but that’s probably some kind of reinforcement shit going on. Fucking irritating that his reflexes are that good, even when he’s talking shit on his phone.

It’s stupidly fucking irritating that the bitch never cracks a smile. If Half n Half was the queen of resting bitch face, then Shitsou’s the fucking emperor. He just stares with those creepy dead eyes and doesn’t say shit, and that’s probably why people thought he was stupid in the first place. It looks like there isn’t a single fucking crayon in that box, but apparently, it’s a fucking megapack in there.

Shitsou looks at the door, which Flaccid Mic said had to be open like he’s expecting some gay shit to go down, then goes back to his phone. Fucker hadn’t put it down the whole time, but he barely fucking used it. “ You kno-ow about my quirk o-or talki-ing shi-it. ”

Bakugo rolls his eyes. He’s not about to catch some attitude from fucking Alexa’s bitch ass. “It’s ‘Do you know,’ I know you know that shit. Got this whole fucking library over here, so fix your fucking grammar.”

Shitsou keeps doing that creepy fucking stare while Bakugo opens another energy drink. This bullshit project was kicking his ass, and if he pulled another all-nighter he’d probably have more eyebags than Shitsou. He could use the study break anyway. As smart as Shitsou was, shit would stop sticking if they just kept at it.

“You’ve got to talk to use it, right? So it’s a vocal type,” Bakugo pauses to take a drink. Even with the Alexa, Shitsou didn’t say enough to have a fucking conversation, so he had to pick up the slack, and now he’s fucking parched from all the talking. “Voice quirks are fucking weird with trauma. Sometimes they stop talking, but you talk too fucking much for that. So, instead of your trauma shit messing with your voice, it’s your quirk messing with your voice. Got that?”

Shitsou’s face twitches, which is the closest fucking thing he’s gotten to showing a real fucking human emotion this whole study session, and keeps typing shit on his phone that he keeps deleting. Bakugo just waits, even if it’s fucking irritating because apparently there’s some processing shit going on, and he knows he can’t interupt that shit. “ Pa-art of quirk wo-orks. You’re wro-ong. ”

Bakugo raises an eyebrow. “Part of it? The fuck does that mean? There’s still some shit you can do without talking?”

There’s another fucking processing thing going on, and holy fuck does Bakugo feel bad for therapists and shit. They must be bored as fuck at their jobs having to wait for people to talk instead of just making them say shit and shoving them out the door. “ Qui-uirk slips are a sympto-om of what you-ou’re talki-ing about. ”

Bakugo groans, he’s fucking tired of this bullshit. “Seriously, can you fucking talk right?! Ask a fucking question instead of saying this shit, I’m not gonna beat your ass for it, alright?!”

He can’t tell if it’s the energy drink or just Shitsou getting on his fucking nerves, but he needs to blow off some fucking steam before he blows something else up. Shitsou’s used to this by now, he doesn’t fucking blink when Bakugo gets up and walks through this creepily normal ass apartment to the front door. Seriously, he didn’t think Shitsei lived in a place that had lightbulbs, but apparently the loudmouth civilized him or some shit.

It’s just so fucking creepy to see Flaccid Mic doing something so fucking domestic like cooking . He figured he just screamed until a flock of birds dropped out of the sky and then started eating them off the ground or some shit. The fact that his teachers are so fucking normal is too fucking weird for him. 

“Smoke break?” Flaccid Mic asks, and Bakugo only nods because he might lock him out if he doesn’t. Eri still tries to mean mug him before he even gets in the way of her Sailor Moon marathon, and the brat needs to stop because it’s fucking adorable.

He should feel bad for thinking that, since the brat can’t fucking smile and shit so she probably doesn’t know how to glare at people either, but he can keep that shit to himself. 

And probably teach her how if Shitsou ever learns to calm his little sister complex down to a normal fucking obsession.

He fires off bigger explosions than he usually would, because if Shitsou wants to talk about his quirk being fucked, he’s probably going to get into what happened during the raid. And Bakugo’s going to be fucking pissed that he never got the chance to tear Overhaul’s bitch ass codpiece wearing face apart. After he did shit to Eri, did shit to Shinsou, nearly got Kirishima fucking killed with that bitch fucker Rappa, he hopes that he sees that trash bird ass bitch for himself. Hands or no hands, he’ll tear that fucker to shreds.

Shitsou does this creepy fucking thing where he never fucking relaxes. He hasn’t even fucking moved since Bakugo left. Shitsei probably has to give him permission to scratch his nose sometimes, and that’s just fucked up.

“Fuck it, you know what? I’ll give you a freebie but next time you have a question, say that shit ,” Bakugo says, taking another drink while he flexes his hands, making sure that the nitroglycerin channels feel sore and drained. “I don’t have fucking research on that because no one’s fucking done any. No one’s figured out that it might be a fucked up quirk instead of a fucked up head, but if you’re having quirk slips, it’s probably a sign that it’s your quirk being fucked up.”

Shitsou doesn’t look up from his phone, apparently he knows where the letters are now. “ Your tu-urn. Two que-estions. ”

Right, this shit. Fucking yakuza bastard needs to keep his books balanced. “What’s the fucking deal with you and eating shit? Shitsei said you can’t eat shit and you won’t eat shit, but you’ve got to be eating something.”

“ I do-on’t eat shit. I eat foo-od. Stra-ange concept for you-ou, apparently. ”

Fucking smartass. “That’s not what I fucking meant.”

Shitsou tilts his head, looking at his phone while he types, like there’s some big fucking revelation that he’s programming into Alexa to say. Like that villain school place trained him out of eating or some shit, and now he just photosynthesizes. “ Ca-an’t eat. Was fo-orce fed. Me-essed up no-ow, I gue-ess. ”

“That trash bird fucker force fed you?” Bakugo asks, and he doesn’t expect Shitsou to fucking giggle at that.

He looks fucking terrified for a second, then he huffs and covers his mouth with his hand like that’ll stop his shoulders from shaking. He’s fucking giggling , and it’s only half as creepy as it is when he’s trying to be a fucking robot.

“ ‘Trash bird’ really that fucking funny? Ask Deku to roast him sometime. I don’t know how Endeavor pissed in his Lucky Charms, but that shit was hilarious,” Bakugo decides candy isn’t big enough for Shitsou finally emoting and shit, so he grabs a grape soda that was going to be Sero’s, but fuck it. Shitsou deserves it.

And Shitsou still doesn’t fucking get the whole reward system. He takes it, but it looks like he’s trying to figure out how to put it in his fucking pocket.

“Pop the top and drink it, dipshit. Unless you’re gonna break your fucking fingers, being all malnourished and shit,” Bakugo tells him, and finally Shitsou gets with the program. Basic fucking instructions work with everything but candy, apparently.

He takes the tiniest fucking baby sip and nearly spits it out, hand over his mouth like he didn’t fucking know….

Fuck, this bitch has never had a fucking soda before. “Oi, it’s carbonated, so it’s got tiny fucking bubbles in it. Is it too fucking spicy for you or some shit?”

Shitsou shakes his head, like it’s a fucking ordeal to swallow the three fucking drops he’s got in his mouth. He just stares at the can like it fucked his mother and shat on his Christmas presents, then picks up the phone to explain that shit. “ Ba-ad taste. Carbona-ation weird, but I do-on’t hate i-it. ”

“Grape tastes like shit, I’ll get something else next time,” Bakugo thinks about handing him the bacon soda that Shitty Hair likes, but that’d probably put him off soda forever. “Answer the fucking question though.”

“ Po-olice did. ” Well, wasn’t that just fucked up? Villains fucked up Shitsou’s head, hands, quirk and probably everything else, then the fucking police finished off his digestive system.

Shitsou doesn’t look like that bothers him, but he’d probably look that way if someone was tearing his fucking toenails out and salting them in front of him. “They’re investigating that villain school bullshit? And yeah, I know it’s not a fucking villain school, but whoever fucked you up before Overhaul needs to go down. Whatever Stockholm bullshit you’ve got going on-”

“ My tu-urn. How o-old are you-u? ” Alexa’s bitchass can fuck right off, that distraction is fucking weak .

“The fuck you mean-” Bakugo stops himself to grab a couple pink Starbursts to throw at Shitsou’s head, the bitch fucking earned it. “I’m 16, same as you. Congrats on the question shit.”

One of them goes into his fucking reward pocket, but Shitsou actually eats the other. He looks the whole thing over first, like he fucking believes those razorblades-in-candies hoaxes, but he still eats it. Fucking progress. He throws another one at him after Shitsou doesn’t spit it out immediately.

“They really didn’t tell you shit,” Bakugo says, mostly to himself, because he’s the only fucker in this room that knows Shitsou doesn’t know anything he’s supposed to. He doesn’t know how fucking old he is or when his birthday is, probably doesn’t even know his address and every fucking toddler on the street knows that shit about themselves. Shitsei and Micsei just fucking put him in this boring ass room and figured Shitsou would ask for shit, but he fucking doesn’t, because he has issues about that shit. And how the fuck is he supposed to know what he doesn’t know?

“ Chewy. I mi-ight have eaten the-ese before. A-and they di-idn’t te-ell me much. They thi-ink I’m trau-umatized. ” Shitsou keeps staring at the other candies on the floor like he doesn’t have 50 of them in his fucking pocket. 

And he’s fucking stupid . 

They’re all fucking idiots, this is the idiot dorm, fucking Eri is the only one who should shower alone, holy fuck.

“Okay, bitch ? You’re fucking traumatized. If you came out of that shit without some screws rolling around, that’d just mean you didn’t have any to begin with,” Bakugo explains, and starts counting down the reasons why Shitsou’s fucked for him because now he knows the fucker can count. “You’re jumpy as fuck, you probably don’t sleep and if you do, you have fucking nightmares, you fucking ascended to a whole new stratosphere because Ojiro grabbing your hair freaked you that fucking bad, you probably get sweaty and pissed off for no reason, and it’s not the fucking hormones, it’s because you’re fucking trauamatized. ”

He sees the fucking lightbulb flicker on before Shitsou throws a cinderblock at it. “ Eri i-is traumati-ized. I’m no-ot. ”

Bakugo throws his head against the bed - fuck it, Shitsou probably got bad-touched and can’t do shit anyway - and tries doing that massage-thing on his forehead that Shitty Hair said would help. And it fucking doesn’t. “You’re both. Fucking. Traumatized. Dipshit. PTSD isn’t a fucking sharing stick that only one of you gets to have, you both went through shit and you both need fucking therapy.”

Shitsou seriously doesn’t get the reiforcement shit, because he starts tossing candies at Bakugo while he’s trying to have a fucking moment before he quirks out. He swats one back at Shitsou and he still catches it, the fucker.

“Fine, answer these questions and it’s fucking interview hour starring me, I don’t give a shit. You got beat to shit, right?” Shitsou nods, and it’s fucking creepier because he doesn’t look bothered by that shit at all. He was more fucking bothered by carbonation than getting beat to shit. “They used their quirks while they were beating you?” Bitch fucking rolls his eyes like he’s saying ‘What else are they gonna do?’ and nods. “Yelled at you and called you names? Targeted your emotions and shit? Didn’t feed you?” Nod, shrug, nod. The shrug is probably a fucking nod because emotions are still fucking alien to the fucker. “They do shit that you fucking had to show on a doll or some shit?”

Shitsou doesn’t understand that, and he hopes they fucking asked those questions at the police station. He wears enough hoodies for Bakugo to start thinking shit went down, but he’s not fucking sure. One of those mafia fuckers might have just tattooed dicks all over him after they put that giant fucking logo on his back. At least someone took that shit off of him over the weekend, wearing their fucking label like a billboard for the bird fuckers probably fucked with his head even more.

“Did someone touch you in your…. Like, your fucking-” Thank fucking god , he shakes his head. People don’t get over that shit easy, and sometimes it perpetuates and shit. And whether he thinks Shitsou’s cool or not, if he perpetuates any kind of shit on Eri, he’s fucking dead . “Did a mental quirk get into your head a lot?”

Shitsou freezes. Not even fucking breathing, and that’s probably some fucking dissociation shit going on. It must have been fucking awful if it was worse than all that other shit, all the shit that Overhaul could have done and probably did since he was a fucking necromancer.

“It’s fine, don’t fucking answer that,” Bakugo tells him, looking at Shitsou’s feet to see if he took his socks off, and he didn’t. He’s not sure if he’ll eat the Takis, eating is apparently a fucking process, and that naming shit in the room thing probably won’t work either. “If you can hear me, take off your fucking socks, I don’t wanna touch that shit-”

Shitsou comes out of it, doing something with his hand like he has a specific fucking sign for ‘I’m logged the fuck back in, what happened?’ which is just fucking great. Dissociation is some heavy fucking shit, and he does it so regularly that he has a fucking code for it. Fuck therapy, bitch needs some institutionalization shit going on.

“Cool, we’re back now,” Bakugo says, trying to play it off but fuck , what kind of quirk got into his head to do that shit? “There’s some grounding shit I can tell you to do when that shit happens. Don’t know if it fucking helps, sure as shit doesn’t for-”

“ Mental qui-irks. Why ask? ”

Shitsou doesn’t look like he can handle that shit, despite what Alexa says. He still looks like he’s about to piss himself, and Bakugo is trying to project that neutral, calming bullshit to help, but he knew it fucking wouldn’t. It’s fucking unnatural. “I’m not fucking answering that. You’re going to log out again and I’m not dealing with that shit. Ask something else.”

Shitsou talks some shit with his hands, then gets up, and Bakugo’s fucking surprised he can do shit like that of his own free will. And then he just fucking leaves.

And Bakugo doesn’t even feel like fucking with his lights anymore.

He can hear Shitsou talking to Eri, so he knows he’s not taking a piss or anything. He can’t hear what they’re saying until the brat says ‘Chewy.’ 

And then he remembers that Shitsou’s not fucking stupid.

He kept putting shit in his pocket for Eri . Bakugo probably should have told him there’s a whole fucking bag for the brat, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. It’s not even fucking creepy anymore, it’s just sad. They need to make a whole new fucking disorder for this fucking Eri Obsessive Complusion bullshit, and Shitsou is patient zero. He’s fucking terminal at this point, and hopefully Deku’s next. Hopefully Deku actually dies from it.

Bakugo starts pulling out his phone to see if Shitty Hair ever texted him back about Ashido’s bitchfest. Apparently she had some fucking grand scheme to fix Shitsou with high fives, and he ruined that shit, but she can get over it. But when he grabs it, his hand fucks up and his phone goes flying under the bed.

Bakugo groans, and hopes Shitsou doesn’t hide some fucked up shit under there, then he realizes he’s so fucking tired. He needs some fucking sleep because this carpet feels fucking plush. UA seriously fucked over the student dorms if they had this shit on hand for teachers.

He slaps at his phone and manages to grab it, even if he has to drag himself halfway under the bed, and then he sees it. 

Shitsou has a diary.

It’s probably fucked up that he wants to read it. People need to keep some shit private, but he also knows Shitsou is fucked in the head, and someone needs to know how bad it is. He might be thinking about doing some stupid shit like hurting himself, and if he is, he’d write about it in his secret fucking diary. And Bakugo could find someone to help him with that shit, because Shitsei and Micsei don’t seem to be doing shit for him.

But as soon as he grabs it, he realizes that shit might be too fucking late.

There’s a huge fucking knife sticking out of the pile of crap under there. He grabs it to see if there’s some kind of sign it’s been used for that shit, but there isn’t. It’s warped and burned, with the serrations folding in places and black marks around the end. Fucking weird, but there’s a lot of weird shit under here.

He grabs the Tupperware next, wondering if Shitsou has drugs or something, but instead it’s moldy cookies. The fuck. A knife and cookies and….

Shitsei’s goggles .

Bakugo grabs them because there’s no fucking way. There’s no fucking way Shitsou actually stole these from Shitsei. Even when Shitsei sleeps, he uses some sonar detection bullshit to know where everyone is, but Shitsou must have hacked that shit and snatched them off his head. But why the fuck would Shitsou want them? Why the fuck does he have this shit-

Someone grabs his ankle and pulls him out from under the bed so fast his chin gets rug burn, but before he can kick the fucker for that, they knee him in the back and pulls his fucking hair to go in for a chokehold.

Fucking what the fuck fucking-

Fucked up hands too close to his face and someone behind him and he can’t fucking get out and he’s fucking getting out just watch he’ll destroy this whole fucking building he’ll fucking destroy it all tear it to fucking pieces he’s getting the fuck out they can’t keep him here

“-of Bakugo.” 

Flaccid Mic.

He’s up. Shitsou let him go. There’s something burning his hand.

Sensei’s goggles. He melted the shit out of them, black all over except for the bits that are sticking to his skin like microwaved putty. He shakes his hand so it fucking drops, maybe it takes some skin with it, he doesn’t care.

Flaccid Mic looks like he doesn’t know if they should have some fucking heart to heart bullshit or if he needs to keep Shitsou from going postal, keeps looking between them, but Bakugo makes that decision for him. “I’m fucking leaving before you murder my ass over some moldy fucking cookies.”

Brat doesn’t even try to mean mug him, and he wishes she did because she’s fucking crying.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He can’t even quirk that shit out of his system when he gets outside.

NC

Yamada is trying not to lose it.

He’s also trying very hard not to blame himself or Shouta. Shouta didn’t really think Yamada would agree to have Bakugo over for this study session, and even if he wasn’t entirely on board, there was no way he could say no. 

First, Shouta should know Yamada is not going to be the bad guy here and tell Shinsou he can’t have friends - that’s Shouta’s job. Second, Yamada knows that he and Shouta are absolutely terrible at math, and Bakugo isn’t. Third, Eri wanted to learn JSL . From him . How could anything bad happen after something that he’s wanted for so long just came out of the blue like that?

Shouta should have known better. That pessimistic streak of his is great for avoiding situations like these.

Shinsou seemed a little nervous when they got home, which was understandable given that this was a pretty big step for him. Even if Bakugo wouldn’t be Yamada’s first choice as a friend for Shinsou, he could tell that Shinsou liked him. And Bakugo did know a little JSL, which probably made it easier on Shinsou, especially after he spent the entire day as a mute without his phone, unable to talk to his friends in 1-A like he had all weekend.

But when Bakugo finally arrived, it turned out a lot better than he expected. Bakugo didn’t yell half as much as he usually did, and whenever he or Eri spied on their little math lesson from the hallway, it seemed like it was going well. Shinsou was learning a lot, and Bakugo was behaving himself as much as he could. Things were going well.

Then he heard screaming. And explosions.

And saw Shinsou holding Bakugo to his chest with a forearm around his mouth, a hand around one of Bakugo’s wrists while Bakugo’s free hand was trying to reach for Shinsou’s face, his quirk muffled by whatever he was destroying in his hand.

Shinsou wasn’t dissociating but he was panicking close to it. It took Yamada a while to convince him to let Bakugo go, but once he did, Bakugo snapped out of his rage between one breath and the next.

Then he dropped Shouta’s goggles, and Yamada realized there was a knife on the floor. His missing bread knife, the one he thought Shouta got rid of after Shinsou tried to burn himself with it.

Shinsou was getting closer to the edge, and Bakugo wasn’t that far off from his, but the sight of the knife kept Yamada from protesting too much when Bakugo decided to leave. They needed to talk about that, now , and Yamada should have known, should have kept a better eye on it. Shinsou wears a lot of hoodies and there’s no telling what he could have done to himself by now.

But then Eri threw her arms around his legs, begging him not to be mean, and Yamada remembered the goggles. The cookies that Bakugo mentioned.

And he really should have known about this beforehand.

Mirio, the hero that he was, came just in time. Eri was upset, Shinsou was having a meltdown, and as much as Yamada wished he had a cloning quirk, he didn’t. He thought that Mirio could calm Eri down while he talked to Shinsou, but it didn’t work out that way.

Shinsou wasn’t coming out of it. Eri could only get him to say a few words before he shut down again, and when she started begging Mirio to fix Shinsou because ‘it’s her job,’ Yamada’s heart broke.

They had encouraged that. They relied on Eri to keep Shinsou grounded, and she picked up on that and took it to heart. They put that weight on a 5 year old girl, and now they needed to undo it. They were the adults, they were the caretakers, and Eri had enough to worry about.

Her horn grew again before it finally took its toll, and between the tears and exhaustion from her quirk, she finally found a fitful sleep. While Yamada had been hoping Mirio could just keep an eye on Shinsou, make sure he didn’t hurt himself during that spell, he was surprised to hear the sound of the keyboard coming from Shinsou’s room and the sight of Mirio sitting on the couch.

Mirio had gotten through to Shinsou during that spell. As much as Yamada loved and appreciated the young hero, it kind of felt like a slap in the face. But Yamada needed the wake-up call.

And with both wards taken care of and Mirio ready to let him know if that changed, Yamada went to his bedroom to make a very belated phone call.

‘ Hi Mom! Been a while! Life is crazy. ’ Yamada signed. As much as he prefers using JSL, PSJ was easier to slip back into than any other language he learned. It always came from a special place for him.

‘ Hi-Hi! Sweet baby, how are you? ’ His mom signs back, her signs far more fluid from everyday use. 

Yamada smiles, but he still has to blink back a few tears. It really has been too long since he called her. ‘ Doing okay! I have very big news for you! I feel bad that I didn’t tell you before. Me and Shou have wards! ’

Instead of the big smile and a conversation about how his mom doesn’t technically have grandkids yet, she gives him a sly grin, slowly signing, ‘ I figured. You’re on the news for radio show. Had to listen. I knew it already, Hi-Hi. Hiding from your mother, tsk, tsk. ’

Yamada covers his face with his hands, part of it because he must have been embarrassingly obvious on his show. And part of it was to let a few tears out, because his mom never listens to his radio show anymore. 

She used to listen to every podcast, and she tuned in to every big event, but as she got older, her hearing aids became too painful to wear all the time. She never wears them now, and never listens to his shows, except the Christmas special. But out of any show she could have tuned in for, he’s glad it was that one.

He’s probably not hiding his tears very well when he wipes them away, but his mom doesn’t comment on it. She just gives him that same look she always did right before she hugged him tight enough to squeeze the rest of his tears out. And he wishes that she could.

‘ Not hiding, just busy. Kids are a lot of work! ’ How his mother managed to have eight kids still amazes him. Eight kids, some with issues not too dissimilar to the two he has now, and not a single one of them ever doubted that she loved them. Dammit , he really should have called her sooner. ‘ E-R-I, or Eri is five. Picked her own sign name. VERY sweet, adorable, cute, and smart- ’

His mom starts nodding her head with a knowing look in her eye, and he sighs. This really might turn into the ‘No, legally, we kind of have to give them away’ conversation if he’s not careful.

‘S-H-I-N-S-O-U is the boy from the show. So smart, learning JSL really quickly. He’s 16, fibbed on radio show. He’s not HOH or anything, he’s…’ Yamada curls his fingers in a bit before he puts his hands together, taking a much needed breath. ‘Mom, they’ve been through a lot. I don’t know if I’m doing it right. I need advice.’

His mom reaches up a hand to pat her phone, and despite the distance, he can feel it on his shoulder, before she pulls her teacup into view. He called at just the right time. ‘ I’m all ears, Hi-Hi. ’

He can’t help but crack a smile at that old joke. ‘ S-H-I-N-S-O-U has a stash. ’

His mom smiles, holding her face with her hands before she signs. ‘ I love stash-ers! So many stories. How did you handle it? ’

‘ I haven’t, he was having an episode, ’ Yamada frowns, running his hands through his hair to make a loose ponytail before he realizes he’s just stalling. ‘ He had a knife. Last week he tried to burn himself with that knife. I can’t take it from his stash. I can’t let him keep it. What do I do? ’

His mom nods, taking a sip of tea while she looks off in thought. ‘ Hard. Can’t let him harm, can’t violate stash. ’

‘ I think he had stashes found before, ’ Yamada explains, frowning as he remembers how upset Eri had been. How convinced she was that he was going to ‘be mean’ to Shinsou because he had a stash. ‘ The situation he was in was bad. REALLY bad. He didn’t have a lot, so I kind of expected stash-ing, but Eri said something that makes me think that people found his stashes and made fun of him for it. ’

His mother shakes her head, full of pity for a boy she’s never met. ‘ Very bad. Awful. Stashes can be the heart. All the things he loves. Can be control. Tell me about burn incident. ’

‘ Shou caught him, no harm, ’ Yamada explains, pressing his hands together again before he decides that his mother should know this, even if he’s not really supposed to disclose this much. It’s his mother , and if she were a part of the criminal underworld, he would know by now. He’s also pretty sure that the criminal underworld would be a lot smaller and better behaved if she was a part of it. ‘ A quirk put him inside two other people. Came out with patch of their skin. Tattoo. They were abusers to him. He tried to burn it off. Didn’t tell anyone that it was there. Don’t know if he harmed other times, but he might. ’

‘ Shou close to him? ’ His mother asks, bumping into that little sore spot that still hurts, even if the situation seems to be improving.

‘ So-so. Rough going. Not Shou’s fault, Shinsou afraid- ’

His mother sign-whispers his sign-name for Shinsou with a knowing smile, and he tries not to blush.

‘ Shinsou is afraid of him, sees threat. Getting better though. ’

His mother nods, and the look in her eye tells him she already knows the answer. ‘ I don’t think he will harm. Leave in stash. Could be control. Could be heart. Tell me about stash. ’

‘ I didn’t see a lot. Cookies he made with other people. Shou’s goggles. They were damaged. Should I replace? Ask to look through- ’

‘ No. Invite only. Invite to take things, don’t look without invitation. Show him your stash. Memory books. Tell him it’s normal to keep things to remember. ’ His mother smiles softly. ‘ Heart. I think it’s heart. Control a little, because heart is frightening thing. Shou protected, may not understand, but he knows it’s a feeling. He wants to keep it safe, to himself, own it. Understand it. ’

Yamada smiles. He thinks she’s probably right. He’s not surprised that she knows Shinsou that deeply, even if she’s never even met him. She’s loved a lot of kids like him. ‘ Eri worries me. Shinsou and Eri were in bad situation together. Kept each other safe. Eri keeps Shinsou level. Helps from dissociating. She noticed. Eri thinks it’s her job to wake out of dissociation. Guilty. I relied on Eri. How do I help her? ’

His mother’s eyebrows furrow, sadness creeping into her smile. ‘ Very sad for you all. Very sad for Eri. No control over situation. Very scary. Good helper? ’

‘ VERY good. LOVES helping, ’ Yamada brags, smiling to himself about every little chore Eri had assigned to herself with pride. But the more he thinks about it, the more tainted those memories become. ‘ Helps a lot. Too much? Eri was told she was helping at bad place. Perpetuating that. Stressing her out. My fault- ’

‘ No, ’ his mother signs, shaking her head. ‘ Happy helpers want to have reassurance. Yes, they’re good. Yes, they’re useful. Not bad thing! Learn confidence! Sometimes, can’t help. Helpers feel bad. Helpers need tasks they can do. Not ones that fail. Job not to wake Shinsou. Job to help Shinsou help self. Then good job. Reassure. Eri walk away as good helper. ’

Yamada feels like the world has been lifted from his shoulders as he sighs. It was that easy. Eri could help and not have that burden, Shinsou could keep his stash. His mother hadn’t even met his wards and she knew how to help them far better than he could.

He knew she would, she had fostered and adopted a lot of kids and dealt with the issues that came up from that enough times to be an expert. That’s why he called her. But, still…

‘ Hard, mom. ’ Yamada signs, try to fight the tears with a smile. It’s a fight he’s won plenty of times, but it hardly ever works with her. ‘ I’m a hero. Want to save them. It’s hard. Slow, I know. Process. Want them to be happy. They’re not. ’

His mom shakes her head, her eyes becoming a little more glassy, and now he really can’t fight it anymore. He’s an awful sympathy crier when it comes to his mom, and they’ve broken down sobbing in enough movie theatres to get banned from a few of them. ‘ Hi-Hi, you love. Your heart is so big. They feel it. That’s enough. That’s what I tell myself. Now tell yourself that too. ’

Yamada sniffs, wiping away his tears again as he laughs. ‘ This is not my style, mom. Making my mom cry. Awful villain. Never showed you pictures! You need to see my wards! Eri poses, so cute! Will kill me. Will die of cute overdose. Not lying, mom, she is too cute I can’t stand it sometimes. ’

His mom laughs, the same loud and boisterous laugh that she’s always had, while she wipes away her own tears. ‘ Will see! You can’t hide them now! You win Christmas lottery. I will cheat. ’

She gives him a sly look that suggests that all the Christmas lotteries have been fixed, and he doesn’t doubt it. They’ve always tended to favor whichever sibling had the youngest children for her to spoil, or whoever had been going through a rough patch.

He feels a little guilty for being so excited about that. His mother had a lot of obligations during the holidays with every family she had to visit. Since he and Shouta didn’t have kids, and usually worked through Christmas anyway, they were fine with whichever day worked out best for his mom. She always seemed so frazzled when she arrived, but by the time she left she was swearing that their Christmas was her favorite, because everyone was fluent in sign.

He hopes that Shinsou would still be with them by Christmas.

He tries to ignore that thought, and everything that comes with it. He’s crossed a line with the way he thinks about the wards, and he knows it could come back to bite him, especially with Shinsou. Eri wasn’t likely to gain control of her quirk for a few years, but Shinsou’s investigation couldn’t last that long. He wouldn’t be surprised if Naomasa was putting the pressure on Shouta right now, even though it’s only been a week.

He knew that he should want that, he should want to catch the people who hurt Shinsou, the people who were creating Nomus out of hundreds of other victims just like him. But he didn’t want to lose Shinsou either.

Yamada shakes his head, smiling at his mother. He wouldn’t be able to hide this from her anyway, and he’s pretty sure she’s already figured it out. ‘ I’m excited for you to meet my kids. ’

He hasn’t even admitted that to Shouta, but he was right. His mother just smiles at him like she already knows.

*

Eri doesn’t like her quirk.

She really wishes she didn’t have a cursed quirk. People tell her it’s not cursed, and she knows she should believe what the heroes tell her more than anything that He told her, but the heroes don’t know what her quirk is like.

It hurts sometimes, a lot. It makes her really tired. It makes her really mean sometimes, and that’s the worst part. She’s really mean to Twenny sometimes, and she doesn’t want to be. Even when she’s being mean, she’s scared that she’ll be so mean that he leaves, but she can’t stop being mean because her quirk makes her mean. She really hates how that feels.

And she really hates how people look at her because of her quirk. She makes Yama scared sometimes, and she makes people pretend that they like her because they’re scared that her quirk will start working if she gets upset.

And she doesn’t like that they’re right.

Twenny said when she gets hurt, her quirk starts working, but he might be a little wrong. Eri hasn’t gotten hurt at all, and her horn is already too big. It’s bigger than both of her hands, and it makes her head tilt to the side if she doesn’t try to keep it up. She doesn’t like that at all. Her horn makes her look even more ugly.

Eri hopes that Twenny doesn’t think she’s ugly. 

She’s been really bad, and she couldn’t do her job right. Yama or Mirio saved Twenny while she was asleep, and even though they’re heroes, they need Eri to save Twenny because it’s her job. She was really good at it too, but her quirk makes her really bad at it now.

Eri stops at the door to see what Twenny is doing. If he’s busy on the computer, then she probably shouldn’t bother him because he might be doing investigation stuff, but he’s cleaning his room up after Bakugo left it so messy. Eri hopes that she can help Twenny clean up, so he won’t hate her so much for being so bad.

Twenny is a really good TV mom, because he has eyes in the back of his head, like TV moms do. Eri didn’t even say anything, and he knows she’s there. He stops putting things in the plastic bag and looks at her, and his face does a lot of weird things before he sits down on the floor and lifts up his arm to her.

Eri runs to hug him, and his arm wraps around her and his hand is on the back of her head. She sniffs and tries to breathe really deep, because she doesn’t want to cry anymore. It really hurts to cry when her horn is this big. Twenny hugs her, and that means that he still likes her, even though she’s ugly and bad.

Twenny is the best TV mom, because he knows all about Eri’s horn. She doesn’t even have to tell him it’s hurting, but he pulls her back and starts rubbing around the bottom of it so it starts to feel better. And he tries to smile at her, but it’s a whole lot like when she tries to smile, and it makes him look really tired. “I need to teach your heroes how to do this, just in case I’m not around when it starts hurting.”

Eri shakes her head and throws her arms around Twenny again, and she’s trying really hard not to cry, and stomping her feet kind of helps. “Mom, please don’t leave, I’ll be really good-”

“Eri, shh,” Twenny starts rubbing her back and hums while he holds her really tight, and when she sits down on his lap he curls his legs up behind her. It makes her feel really warm, and safe. “Eri, I’m not going to leave. I’m sorry I scared you. I just think that other people should know about your horn tricks.”

Twenny gives her a napkin to blow her nose into, and then gives her another before he flicks her horn really hard, hard enough that a lot of snot comes running out of her nose and her eyes get really watery and full-feeling. But after she blows her nose, she feels a lot better, and her head doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as she thought it did.

“Now you feel better.” Eri nods, because Twenny’s voice gets kind of low and weird sounding when he asks questions now, just so Eri knows it’s a question. “That’s good. The heroes should know how to do those things if they’re going to take care of you. If you’re on a date with Mirio and your horn starts hurting, he needs to know how to make you really snotty.”

“No!” Eri whines, and her face feels really hot. “I don’t wanna get snotty on Mirio! Don’t tell him!”

Twenny kind of laughs at her, but she really doesn’t want him to tell Mirio. Mirio is a really cool guy, and everyone tells him that, but if Eri snotted on Mirio, then he would think that she’s not cool at all. Even if Mirio wasn’t mean, and didn’t laugh at her or bully her, she’d still be really embarrassed.

“It’s okay if you get snotty on me, Eri!” Mirio says, and Eri really wishes she was a TV mom so she would know he was standing in the doorway. “Tamaki always gets snot on me anyway. There was one year his allergies got REALLY bad, and every time he hid his face in my shirt, snot would get all over it. By the time I got home, my shirt was so snotty and crusty-”

Eri hides her face on Twenny’s shoulder and whines, hoping Mirio would stop talking about gross stuff. This must be why Jirou and Momo always complain about boys being gross. Even Twenny is acting like a gross boy because Bakugo is a bad influence on him, so he definitely needs to stop being friends with Bakugo and start being friends with girls.

Twenny just pats her head, and Eri wonders if Kendo knows how to do that with her kids too. Maybe Kendo would be a really good friend for Twenny, because at least she wouldn’t leave his room all messy after they hung out.

Eri looks up to tell Twenny that he should invite Kendo over the next time he needs to learn math, but he’s looking at his phone. Before she can turn around to read what he’s saying, his phone talks for him. “ An o-overwhelmi-ing emo-otion cau-uses the build u-up. I-it could a-also be the tri-igger. Tra-ash bird didn’t te-est that tho-ough. Cou-uld be wrong. ”

Twenny bites his lip like he’s really worried, but he shouldn’t be, because Mirio was here to protect him. Eri looks up at Mirio, and he’s smiling but it looks a little weird. “It could be overwhelming happiness?”

“ Cou-uld be wrong. Do-on’t get yo-our hopes up. ”

“Well, that doesn’t really change anything for me,” Mirio said, smiling at Twenny like he really wants Twenny to see that it’s okay, so he’ll stop being so worried and shrink-y. “I already wanted to make Eri so happy that she can’t stand it!”

Eri tilts her head, because that sounds kind of mean. “I don’t wanna be so happy that I don’t like it! I wanna be happy and like it.”

“It’s not like that, Eri,” Twenny says, and he starts rubbing her horn again before it even starts hurting. “You know how you get a lot of snot when your horn gets-”

“ Twenny ,” Eri whines, and she covers her face. She’s getting really mad that Twenny keeps being gross around Mirio.

“Your horn grows because it stores feelings up, kind of like that. If you start hurting too much, your horn grows to store some of that pain, but if you get too happy, it stores it up the same way,” Twenny explains, and he’s not as good at explaining things as Zawa, but Eri still kind of understands. “So, you might be able to make it start growing by being really happy, the same way hurting too much triggered it.”

“And I think that makes a lot of sense,” Mirio says. “It’s just like in The Prettiest Unicorn Princess! The unicorn princess’ tears only helped a few people, but her smile saved the whole kingdom! So, I think that if your quirk was full of your happiness instead of pain, my quirk would be even better than it was before!”

Eri doesn’t think Mirio knows that her horn doesn’t make her a Unicorn Princess, and he really should because it looks so ugly now, and it’s full of snot. But she doesn’t want to be mean and make him sad, so she tries to smile at him. “I’m gonna work really hard on being happy, Mirio!”

“And we’re all gonna help!” Mirio promises, and Eri’s really glad he will. It’s really hard for Eri to try to be happy sometimes, but the heroes and Twenny make that easy a whole lot of the time.

“Don’t worry so much about it, though,” Twenny tells her, but his voice gets kind of shaky like it does when he’s trying to talk to other people by talking to her. “It will take a long time for it to work like that.”

Mirio smiles at Twenny, and Eri kind of likes the way he smiles now. It’s not a really big smile, but his eyes look different in a way that kind of makes her feel funny. “I don’t mind that at all.”

Eri doesn’t think it will take too long, though. Her horn is already really big, so it should start working again soon, and then she can fix Mirio. She just needs to be really happy a few times, but that shouldn’t be too hard. Especially because Twenny seemed like he was trying to be friends with Mirio, and if Twenny and Mirio were best friends, that would be even better than living on a TV show.

Maybe, if her TV mom and TV dad and other TV dad and two big brothers were all friends, she would really feel like a unicorn princess.

NC

Aizawa doesn’t look up when Sansa places another cup of coffee on the desk, but he can see the officer shaking his head from the reflection of the screen. “Happy birthday, Eraserhead.”

Aizawa rubs at his eyes, looking down at the sketch again to make sure he hasn’t forgotten what that face looks like after hours of searching for it through various databases of human traffickers. He glances to the side to see that Sansa didn’t just hand him another dose of the station’s brew, but something from the coffee shop down the street. It really is his birthday.

Sansa sighs, settling into a chair behind him, and intentionally bumps into the Aizawa’s chair to convey how unhappy he is to lose access to his computer. “You know, most people spend their birthday with their families. They spend time with their loved ones, looking back fondly on another year well spent, or just drinking themselves sick to forget that old age is coming for them. You could try doing something like that. Something that will get you away from my desk.”

Aizawa waits until Sansa starts sorting through his paperwork, lifting the papers up off the desk, so that they spill out of his hands when Aizawa pushes his chair back against Sansa’s. The cat officer glares at him, but Aizawa ignores it. “What did she know?”

“Nothing, just like we knew she wouldn’t,” Sansa snaps. Aizawa would like to doubt that he even met with that informant, but he knows Sansa well enough to know he wouldn’t douse himself in glitter just to make that lie believable. “A big fish like that one wouldn’t travel in the grey. The informants can’t help us here.”

“If it’s a big fish at all,” Aizawa mutters, picking up the sketch again. Large, jagged nose. Blue and green lips. Short, stubby limbs and rounded torso. This could all be a meaningless figment of the imagination, and the way it was so easily given to them only makes him doubt it more.

“Naomasa has to chase it anyway,” Sansa says, staring at the sketch over Aizawa’s shoulder. “Look, you know you have time. His lawyer is gunning for a full pardon, and as big as this is, it’s not big enough for that. But it’ll take a while for the greedy bastard to realize that.”

“I don’t have time,” Aizawa grouses, turning back to the mug shots of convicted human traffickers from the Ukraine. “Shinsou won’t talk, and I won’t let them-”

He already knows who’s calling when he hears his ringtone, but he still has no idea what to say to him. “ Babe, come home. I don’t know what Naomasa said to keep you out this late - and by the way, I SHOULD know - but you need to sleep. We can tackle it on Wednesday. Together. ”

Aizawa leans his head forward, closing his eyes. He could fall asleep like this. Just a few hours to rest his eyes, then turn back to this impossible and desperate mess. As much as he wanted to, that wasn’t logical.

He needed his husband for this.

“I’ll be there soon. There’s been a-”

“ A break in the case, I figured. I might be blonde, but I’m not stupid, ” Hizashi laughs, and Aizawa can tell by how quiet the sound is that both the wards are asleep. They should be, considering that it was after midnight, but after reading the keylogger he didn’t think that Shinsou would tonight. “ Tell me when you get home, alright? ”

“Alright,” Aizawa sighs, closing out of his searches then standing to gather the sketch and his birthday gift from Sansa. “I love you.”

“Aw, Eraser-” Sansa gushes before Aizawa kicks his chair to push him out of his way.

“ I love you too, Shou, ” Hizashi answers, and he can tell by his tone that he didn’t miss how irregular it was for Aizawa to say it first.

He hoped that would make him more reasonable when they talked about this.

*

Aizawa’s favorite birthday was the day he turned 19.

Everyone forgot about it.

Hizashi was busy as a sidekick, and working himself to death trying to find a better agency, to start his radio show, to change everything that he hated about his current situation to better fit the dreams he had when he graduated. Kayama relied on Hizashi to remember, and Tensei was quickly becoming Idaten’s pack mule to prove himself worthy to inherit the agency from his father. Aizawa had already changed his phone number and address to keep his parents from contacting him, and his grandfather didn’t own a phone out of paranoia that the government could use it to track him down.

Aizawa treated himself to a cup of coffee after he woke up that afternoon, petted one of the friendlier strays that called his crappy shoebox apartment complex home, and went back to sleep. It was everything he ever wanted from his birthday. It was peaceful.

This was not going to be a peaceful birthday. It wasn’t even going to be a good one. Aizawa didn’t particularly care, he’s had 30 other birthdays that weren’t good or pleasant to endure, but if it had fallen on any other day, he might have been able to endure it a bit better.

If it had fallen on a weekend, he would stop feeling so resentful every time he had to glare down his students to keep them from bothering Shinsou. He could have done another training exercise, but this was one thing he would allow himself for his birthday. He was going to take a nap in homeroom, and Class 1-A needed to allow him to do that. 

Yaoyorozu’s signed greeting was fine. Shinsou seemed surprised, but repeated the ‘Good Morning,’ back to her and took his seat. Yaoyorozu didn’t press any further.

But Ashido was another story.

Everytime his eyes began to close, or he glanced at another student, he saw her move. She seemed to have a plan to bolt as soon as he was distracted, choosing opportunity over strategy. He’s certainly tried to teach her better, but he’s beginning to wonder if she forgets everything he says when she goes to sleep at night. He’s told her the consequences, but he doesn’t want to enforce them, especially not today.

Bakugo seems more sullen than usual. Hizashi hadn’t told him much about how the study session went, especially when he was too eager to know about the lead in Shinsou’s case. It went well until it didn’t, there was an altercation that wasn’t quite either of the teens’ fault, but the way Bakugo frowns when he glances at the wards suggests that he doesn’t see it that way. He feels guilty over something, and Hizashi hadn’t told him enough to know, and probably wouldn’t until this odd ‘I Want To Give You The Cold Shoulder But It’s Your Birthday’ silence boiled over.

Aizawa would prefer if Hizashi did give him that angry silence. Hizashi had a unique way of making even silence seem loud and unbearable. But at least he knows what to expect from his husband tomorrow.

But he doesn’t know what to expect from his wards.

Hizashi planned something with them. Eri made that obvious, and he expected little else. She seemed to be working on a picture, and he was highly tempted to slip out of his sleeping bag to look at it, to judge by her reaction whether it was for him, but he imagined that she wouldn’t be happy if he did.

Shinsou also seemed to be distracted by something. He had his test on the desk, but he was reading a book instead of working on it. Hizashi must have roped him into this scheme as well, hopefully finding something that Shinsou could do more easily than drawing a picture.

He knows it’s not what he wants from Shinsou. The only thing that would save this wreck of a day would be if Shinsou gave him information about the Nomu Organization. Real, credible, actionable information. If not that, then information about Eri’s quirk.

But he knows Hizashi wouldn’t tell Shinsou to do that, because Aizawa is the only one who’s rational enough to.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the chime to end the class wakes him into a panic. He bolts up, sure that he’ll see Ashido trying to smother Shinsou into another disastrous embrace, or Bakugo attempting to resolve whatever issue he had with Shinsou the same way he deals with any interpersonal conflict - explosively.

Instead, he sees Koda of all people startling under his glare, leaning away from Shinsou’s desk before he bolts for his own. Shinsou’s blank stare reveals nothing as he sorts his items to place in Eri’s backpack after she finishes putting away her own supplies.

That was promising, at least. He had a nap, and none of his charges caused any problems to deal with while he did.

He didn’t have high hopes for the rest of the day, but at the very least, this was bearable.

*

Monoma Neito wasn’t one to do any favors for those Class A swine, despite the impression that he gave the ill-tempered knave yesterday.

He always intended to do this, but Bakugo’s request simply inspired him to move his plans up a bit. It had still been deliciously amusing to see him grovel as Monoma forced him to wheedle and attempt to charm.

And, more alarmingly, show Monoma a face that didn’t suit the barbarian of Class A at all.

‘ His quirk’s fucked, that’s why he can’t talk. No one’s doing shit about it, but if your bullshit quirk can figure some shit out, fucking tell me. Corpse face can’t do therapy if he doesn’t fucking talk. ’

Vlad King had been rather sparse with the details of Shinsou’s wardship, despite how much Monoma pried.

‘ He’s selectively mute, yes. That means that you should represent Class B’s superior professionalism by respecting the rules that are set in place. I know that you want to help, and I know that it comes from a good place, Monoma, but part of being a hero is trusting a fellow hero’s word over your own instincts. And trust me when I say that the best way to help him is to ignore him. ’

Monoma respected Vlad King, and of course he trusted him. But ignoring Shinsou simply wasn’t something that he could accomplish, even for his teacher.

Shinsou was captivating. Enthralling, even. When he saw him that first day, still under the impression that he was a transfer student, he chose his words specifically so that Shinsou would be enthralled back. Even if it started in anger, in insult and even rivalry, he wanted those eerie violet eyes to look at him. He wanted to pick apart a history made apparent and mysterious all at once. How did he get those scars? How did he come here? Why was he so attached to the small child that seemed to be hoarded by those Class A gremlins?

Monoma always had an irritating itch to know someone far more intimately than most were comfortable with. It was comforting to know how the people he surrounded himself ticked, and he’s often heard that he comes across a bit prickly to those that he hasn’t dissected.

And there was nothing closer to a person’s heart than their quirk, was there?

He agreed with a popular theory in Quirk Studies that a quirk was either a manifestation of it’s user’s personality, or that a quirk could subconsciously affect that said personality. Kendo had a heavy hand, literally and in most of her interpersonal relationships. Shiozaki was a creature out of mythology, a goddess of nature forced to live among mortals as punishment for some long forgotten sin.

Monoma liked to steal things, and creep under people’s skin. It was an itch that he’s never needed to resolve, and knew that it wouldn’t help to try. It was a manifestation of his quirk in his personality.

And he wanted to use it to hold a manifestation of Shinsou.

Tetsutestu performed his role admirably, becoming a far better actor than he was on stage. “Hey. Fight me.”

And Kendo was caught off-guard, like she should be. She knew that Monoma was plotting something, and had been watching him like a particularly hungry pit bull would eye a steak on the edge of its fence, but she couldn’t ignore Tetsutestu’s declaration. “Tetsutestu!”

While she rushed over, Tetsutestu leaned back from Shinsou’s desk, admitting the smallest amount of defeat. That was fine, he would still have plenty of time to make his move. “Kirishima said Shinsou can talk if he fights someone. We just need to fight him so he can talk.”

Sweet blank-faced Shinsou nearly betrayed nothing, but the line of his shoulders relaxed just a bit at those words. Monoma could feel bad for scaring him later, but for now, he had to focus on creeping along the wall to slip past the child and get close enough to touch Shinsou.

Kendo’s quirk was usually reserved for Monoma, but Tetsutetsu had received his fair share of blows as well. This one played out just like the others, a heavy chop met an instinctively iron-clad defense. “Kendo! I’m sorry, are you hurt?”

Kendo was, but she wouldn’t show it any further than shaking her now deflated hand. “I’m so disappointed it hurts. Out of all the bullheaded ideas you’ve had, why on Earth would you want to fight Shinsou? He’s a ward of UA!”

And Shinsou, unfortunately, was very perceptive. Monoma had kept his eyes away just so Shinsou wouldn’t feel his stare, but as soon as he crept behind the little girl, Shinsou’s head whipped around to face him.

Those eyes betrayed a suspicion that his face didn’t. How utterly enthralling.

He knew the proper strategy would be to exit stage left. Make some unimportant remark and strike again when Shinsou’s guard eventually lowered. But Monoma itched , and he never learned how not to scratch.

He was aiming to place his hand on Shinsou’s shoulder, close enough to his neck for an ‘accidental’ caress that Kendo would no doubt catch immediately for what it was. But that wouldn’t matter, not when he would have 5 whole minutes to explore a part of Shinsou’s ever-so-secretive personality.

But his hand barely drifted towards Shinsou before it was grabbed, and he felt an explosion of pain.

Not from his hand. He could see how far his finger was pushed back, more than he could feel it, and he knew that a broken finger wouldn’t wrack his entire body with agony.

Monoma had stolen enough quirks to be able to sort out any sort of mystery bag just by touch. Duds fell into him with the hollowness of a Faberge egg, transformation quirks had an ache and sharpness like a tooth breaking through the gum.

This wasn’t any quirk that he was familiar with. He was loathe to agree with any member of that inferior class, and especially to use the language of that uncouth delinquent, but this quirk?

This was a fucked quirk.

Not mutant, not emitter, not transformation, not a dud and certainly not quirkless.

This was a quirk that hurt.

“MO-NO-MA!” Kendo’s chop didn’t carry much weight, probably because her hand was still sore, and Shinsou hadn’t let go of him yet. It wasn’t until Present Mic approached that Shinsou finally did, and Monoma flexed his fingers more for show than to carry out any evaluation, still unable to feel them through this sea of pain.

“Present Mic-sensei, I sincerely apologize-”

“Kendo, it’s fine. You and Tetsutetsu let Vlad know that Monoma will be running a little late,” Present Mic said with a thumb jabbing at the door. Monoma didn’t know who’s glare was fiercer, Kendo’s or Present Mic’s.

No, it was definitely Present Mic’s.

“Is your hand alright?” Present Mic asked, probably more out of obligation than concern, while he crossed his arms and almost seemed to grow taller to become more intimidating. It was wholly unnecessary. Monoma shook his head, still biting back against another wave of pain. “Do you have his quirk right now?”

Shinsou, as a rule, didn’t seem to move much. Didn’t seem to emote either, but he spun to face Monoma with an expression caught between rage and terror in a way that Momona didn’t have enough space left in this haze of pain to parse though. “I don’t, Present Mic-sensei.”

He couldn’t keep his tone even enough to hide the agony, and he imagined that his skin was flushing into a lovely white pallor as the seconds dragged on. But Shinsou, as pale as he already was, seemed to lose his own color while his hands began to move with more words kept hidden from Monoma. 

But that mysterious terror seemed to translate more clearly in his trembling hands.

“Shinsou, it’s alright, he would only have it for 5 minutes and he won’t try to copy it again,” Present Mic said, tone changing from oddly soft and paternal to sharp for the words addressed to him.

That was a familiar song, though he never liked to hear it at UA. 

He’s been struggling to do it for quite some time, but right as Present Mic’s eyes widen into an unsettling display of worry, asking if he needs to see Eraserhead, he manages to unclench the metaphorical hand that had grabbed on to Shinsou’s quirk. Monoma sighs in relief, waving off Present Mic’s concern while he fixes his hair, more than displeased to find his brow dewy with sweat.

“I’m sure that the hero tasked as a zookeeper for those animals in Class A has more important matters to see to,” Monoma said, flexing his fingers again to find a pinch of soreness, but nothing broken. Shinsou glares at him, and while he’s aware that most people would find that kind of anger off-putting, Monoma positively preens under it. “I do apologize for taking liberties, but I was simply overcome with concern when the most uncivilized of Class A requested my expertise. Even a rabid dog might bark in true alarm.”

Present Mic scowled, and beckoned to follow him outside of the classroom, closing the door afterwards. Monoma awaited a dressing down of epic and ear-bleeding proportions, and tried to focus more on the vengeance coming swiftly for him from Vlad King and Kendo combined more than the sickening trickle of guilt lingering along his spine.

He might have gone a bit too far this time.

Present Mic sighs, possibly warming up his quirk, before he crosses his arms and looks down on Monoma. “Did you notice anything with Shinsou’s quirk?”

It had been impossible not to. “Something is very wrong with it,” Monoma answers, unable to hide his own concern when Present Mic can so clearly wear his.

Neito’s father was a quirk specialist, and in preparation for his hero training, he had become a veritable nuisance at his father’s office. It might be a bit arrogant to say, without any true passion or training for the occupation, but Monoma was nearly a quirk specialist himself. He had held thousands of different quirks, and with the appropriate amount of time, he could pick out the frays of an ailing one, or feel the strain of a quirk factor gone too wild for its host.

He’s never held a quirk that was painful the same way Shinsou’s was, though the chest ache of a rejected one was close. “He certainly needs to see a quirk specialist. My father is a very busy man, but with a case as interesting as Shinsou’s, I believe I could convince him-”

“Monoma,” Present Mic interrupted, hands raising then falling back to his elbows, glancing around the hall. “I appreciate that, but I already have someone in mind. Just tell me what you saw about it that made it ‘wrong.’”

Monoma couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, that the agony so apparent to him was so carefully hidden from everyone else. He sobered when he wondered if Shinsou felt that agony constantly, if part of his allure was an instinctive pull to save him from it. “I couldn’t even determine what type of quirk he had. As soon as I stole it, it began to hurt. And I’ve handled my fair share of unpleasant quirks, but nothing even approaches his.”

Present Mic nodded grimly, and as quick as a costume change, shifted back into a scolding teacher. “Then, I trust that you won’t do that again! Using your quirk against a ward is a pretty serious offense! Even if your quirk isn’t offensive, you’re using it against a civilian, which could be grounds for assault, not just expulsion!” 

Monoma played his part as recalcitrant, knowing he’ll have to repeat it at least three times before the day is out and Kendo and Vlad King both have their pound of flesh. 

“But, I know that your heart was in the right place, little listener. Shinsou probably won’t be too happy with you for a while, but I think he might appreciate it if you tried picking up a bit of sign language. I’m sure it’ll be a breeze with your language skills, and honestly,” Present Mic winced, looking back at the door. “Shinsou’s kind of lonely.”

Lonely?

Of course.

Those uncivilized, moronic, barbarous attention-mongers that called themselves heroes only to stain UA’s pure reputation in Class A wouldn’t possibly fathom that Shinsou would feel left out like a sad, wretched puppy in the rain watching them do something so insulting as talk in front of him. Or talk to him, as though to do something as abominable as rubbing his nose in the fact that he couldn’t .

“Well, of course, being raised trilingually has given me a natural talent,” Monoma preened, hiding a hatred that he didn’t think could build any farther, as it did so exponentially . “I’m sure that I can assist you where Class A seems to have fallen short. In fact, I do believe all of Class B can make the effort to be conversationally fluent before the end of the month.”

They would become fluent or die trying. Monoma would make sure of that.

Class B couldn’t afford to take a loss here, not when Class A had so clearly failed their ward.

NC

He can practically hear Hizashi straining to hold back his irritation, but between his birthday and Eri’s skittish rejection, there’s no way he would let it loose. He would rather that he did. He doesn’t need pity from his husband. 

Aizawa sighs, turning back to the United Kingdom database, wishing that Naomasa could have pulled together the resources to have a team of human eyes doing what technology could not, but the detective seemed resigned to The Commission’s plan. He picks at his bento box more for show than any desire to eat it. As much as he enjoyed Hizashi’s cooking, jelly pouches were far more efficient.

“I’m going to ask Toshinori to see if there’s anything he can do,” Yamada declares, stabbing at his rice more than eating it. “I don’t care who is on The Commission right now, they can’t just ignore it if All Might himself tells them to bug off.”

“It’s the best lead they have so far,” Aizawa argues half-heartedly. He knows it’s the rational course of action, but half of him only says that just to see if his words are enough to provoke Hizashi into being honest with him.

It almost works. Hizashi glares at him, lips becoming a firm line that should be the precursor to one of their louder arguments, but he looks back at the door, forcing himself to relax in a shuddering breath. “Shou, I know that. And it’s still messed up. We became heroes to stop this kind of thing, not be accomplices in it.”

“That’s why you became a hero,” Aizawa counters, and he knows he’s cutting a little too deeply here, but it needs to be said. “You haven’t dealt with investigations like this as much as I have. There are times that the system works like it should, and there are times that it doesn’t. Naomasa probably kept you out of the loop because he knew you wouldn’t be familiar with that.”

“So, what’s your excuse?” Hizashi hissed, almost too quietly for Aizawa to hear, but he’s spent too much time around teenagers for his ears not to pick on up words muttered under someone’s breath.

“Maybe I agreed with Naomasa,” Aizawa snapped, the faces on the screen now completely unimportant, even though he still stares at them. “Maybe I wanted to keep you out of it because I knew you would react this way.”

The dam that Hizashi had built up started with a crack, but now it crumbled. “Oh! Of course! Why should I know what’s going to happen to my ward when everyone else has that covered! It’s not like I have a responsibility to Shinsou or anything! No, I just need to play babysitter and let you guys do the investigative work, a dumb blonde like me belongs in the kitchen after all!”

Aizawa looked up in time to see Midnight’s face through the window in the staff room door, wincing before she turned and walked down the hall. “Maybe that’s what Shinsou needs from you. If one of us has to do this, I’d rather have it on my hands than yours.”

Hizashi shook his head, his mouth twisting over words that he didn’t have the fuel to say anymore, before he sighed, pulling his chair closer to Aizawa’s. “Fine, I get it. I get why you did that, but you can’t do things like this, Shou. Shinsou is my ward and you… you need to act like you trust me.”

Hizashi didn’t need to use his quirk to make his words into a weapon. Aizawa reeled as they stung and struck true, closing the distance between them to lean his head on his husband’s shoulder. “I trust you, Hizashi. I just don’t want you to have to see this.”

Hizashi leaned his head against Aizawa’s, before he patted his cheek playfully. “Too bad, babe. If this is my ward and your investigation, then we’re partners in this, just like everything else. So stop hiding things from me, and read me in.”

Aizawa shook his head. “I don’t know anything else. We might have a week, we might have a month. We were told the head of the organization is an undocumented foreigner, but the databases can’t run a search based on a sketch.” He sighed as Hizashi ran a hand through his hair, trying not to find comfort in the gesture when he felt like he didn’t deserve it. “Shinsou needs to give us something better.”

Hizashi sighed. “Yeah, and that’s not going to happen in a week, or even a month. He’s still pretty shaken by what happened with Bakugo.”

Aizawa noticed. He would have liked to take those friendly overtures that happened during the free period as something other than a drowning child trying desperately to find a friendly port, and still hated that he had taken advantage of it. He still didn’t know what caused the spiral, but the keylogger told him how deeply it wound into Shinsou.

‘ Trash trash TRASH USELESS dispose they’ll dispose of you TRASH USELESS hurt everyone you hurt your own WORTHLESS WORTHLESS you HURT ERI everyone CURSED YOU’RE CURSED should die die die death too good for you should suffer hurt deserve TRASH USELESS STUPID STUPID STUPID CURSED YOU’RE CURSED cursed existence cursed quirk dispose of you should die death too good suffer deserve it dispose of you USELESS TRASH TRASH TRASH TRASH STUPID STUPID STUPID .’

He read all seven pages of Shinsou’s mental breakdown, hoping to find something useful to the investigation to justify his intrusion, and found nothing. Nothing but seven pages of reasons to find something to offer The Commission. The kid couldn’t handle a bad day at school, and he certainly couldn’t handle what they had planned.

“Read me in on that,” Aizawa asked, straining to pick at his cold tofu so he could eat while Hizashi explained.

“Nah, I’m handling it,” Hizashi said flippantly, patting his head still resting on his husband’s shoulder.

“It involves my student….” Aizawa trailed off, then rose to level a half-hearted glare, which Hizashi countered with a toothy grin. “You can’t be mean to me on my birthday.”

“Babe, I can be mean to you every day,” Hizashi said, a finger hooking into the chain that he wore under the capture scarf to pull the ring hanging on it out of his shirt. “It’s one of my favorite husbandly duties.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, but honestly?

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

NC

Aizawa had been dreading his homeroom.

He could deal with being bothered on his birthday with parties and social obligations that were exactly that - something he was obligated to attend, but had no real desire to. But the worst part of having a birthday was receiving gifts. There was no way to be comfortable with it, to be the center of attention like that, holding a present in his hand while the giver waited to earn some positive reaction from him. It felt like a trade that he didn’t want to take part in.

He especially didn’t want to do that with his students. It was unprofessional, first and foremost, and he suspected a majority of his class might hope that this will make him go easier on them for their midterms. But he also didn’t know how to react in a balance of honesty and insincerity. Even if they prepared something truly nightmarish, he couldn’t let them know his honest opinion, and he knew that if he acted too appreciative, they might be disturbed by his sudden change in personality.

But he knew that he couldn’t let them know if he was disappointed, because of the new, incredibly uncomfortable dynamic that had begun to take shape after they moved into the dorms. He’s not just a teacher anymore, not a future coworker, not a hero - and if any of them were fans of his work, he’s relieved that he still doesn’t know it.

He’s something approaching a father figure to his students. 

It’s rational that they would begin to think that way - their own family histories laying a foundation for some, and the distance created by living away from home cementing it for the rest.

They’re children, and they need that from him, even if it makes him uncomfortable. He can’t brush it away as something that they need to overcome, to push them over the metaphorical cliff so that they learn how to fly - because this isn’t an aspect of their hero training.

This is a group of children who need approval from an adult figure, who need praise and affection, and UA isolated them from getting that from their real families. As much as he wanted to ignore that, it wouldn’t be rational for him to expect them to grow into exceptional heroes when their emotional development was stunted.

He’s just as unyielding during training, but he does find himself offering praise more often than he did before. He finds himself patting their heads or shoulders, and he’s overheard Kaminari refer to the gesture as ‘The Good Boy Pat’ in a way that’s reassuringly fond, if not a bit overexcited to earn one. He knows more about this class than any of his previous ones - their favorite foods, hobbies, childhood memories - and he could blame that on his dorm shifts, but he can’t blame Principal Nezu for the fact that he keeps track of those things.

It’s uncomfortable and taxing, but when he enters the room, he pretends he doesn’t suspect anything so that he can at least give them the thrill of surprising him. He’s still not sure if he can give them approval in the way that they need, but surprising a hero who specializes in stealth should make them happy.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AIZAWA-SENSEI!” 19 incredibly loud idiots cheer in unison, and he doesn’t have to fake a startle as much as he planned to.

Half of them pull off the excitement and cheer, the other half are clearly trying. Todoroki doesn’t quite smile, but his eyebrows are raised in some approximation of an expression. Bakugo looks like he didn’t cheer, scowling towards the window, but Aizawa definitely heard his voice. Tokoyami and Shoji can’t wear their emotions as plainly as their peers, but he knows by the shape of their eyes and body language that they, just like the rest of the class, are all at once excited and desperate for a reaction from him.

But Aizawa is mostly concerned about Sato’s injuries.

“Do you need to see Recovery Girl?” Aizawa asks, still taking in the busted lip, coin-sized bruises that indicate shrapnel, and scorch marks that have ruined the student’s uniform. It’s technically a dress code violation, but given that some UA classes are a war zone, he’s never enforced it.

“I’m fine, Aizawa-sensei! It looks worse than it feels,” Sato insists, wincing when he looks down at the somewhat cake-shaped object on the plate that he’s holding. There was clearly an attempt to fashion it into a cake using copious amounts of icing, but it’s still bulging and rough, with a crater in the middle of it.

He knew they wouldn’t make this easy for him, but he didn’t expect it to be this difficult. He meets their expectant stares, not quite able to smile, but he doesn’t have to fight to soften his tone for them. “This was wholly unnecessary, but appreciated. Thank you.”

He takes the plate from Sato, noticing the welted burns on his fingers and intent to send him to Recovery Girl for treatment, and sees that Asui is offering him a small booklet. “This was a group effort, and I hope that it’s put to good use, kero.”

Aizawa can’t help the toothy grin when he reads the title, ‘Aizawa-sensei’s Coupon Book for Making Class 1-A Behave.’ At least they were somewhat aware of what little shits they could be. “I’m sure it will be.”

Iida thankfully takes over to direct his class to take their seats, and run through attendance. Eri stares at the cake when he places it on his desk, head tilting to the side, but thankfully doesn’t comment on the odd shape. With his wards and students settled, and self-occupied in silence, Aizawa cracks open the coupon book to know what tools he has at his disposal now.

But it’s not exactly a coupon book.

‘We members of Class 1-A are heartened by the reminder to demonstrate our appreciation to you, Aizawa-sensei, and hope that our efforts do so effectively! Happy Birthday!’ Iida wrote that, clearly, but every single one of his students signed their names around his message.

The first few pages are coupons to make Class 1-A do their work without any supervision from him. There are also some that aren’t assigned to any student in particular, with vague commands to ‘Stop.’ He wishes there were more of those, but the capture scarf works just as effectively.

There’s one redeemable from the girls of Class 1-A for a nondescript and utterly terrifying ‘Spa Day,’ which Ashido’s handwriting betrays her as the creator. Kaminari must have read that and then been inspired to offer the boys of Class 1-A up as pack mules to carry him around in a palanquin for a day.

He’s not using either of those coupons, but he might give the palanquin one to Midnight for Christmas.

Each student gave him a coupon to avoid a certain behavior, or do him a favor. Aoyama’s is good for a traditional French meal, and he recommends Coq au Vin. Bakugo will ‘talk like a fucking nun’ if he demands it, but only for one class period. There are quite a few students who added an additional coupon to watch Eri for him, and he doesn’t believe that’s entirely selfless of them.

But after the coupons, there’s the notes. Letters of appreciation, and as much as this entire situation is uncomfortable, he can’t deny that it’s incredibly touching.

He only reads half of Asui’s before he has to close the book, mind circling over ways to get out of here .

He can’t afford to think like this, to go back to that place when he doesn’t control it, doesn’t predict it. It’s not often, but this happens, his mind stutters and whirs and wants to find a path to a vague escape. Sometimes his scarf moves without his command, just reading his mind to react as though it’s needed to make that escape, but he doesn't want them to see that. He doesn’t want any of them to see that from him today.

He gathers enough of himself after going through his usual process. A headcount, five times. Aoyama, Ashido, Asui, on down the line. Again again again again. They’re here. In their uniforms. They’re safe.

“Class is dismissed,” Aizawa says, drawing more than his fair share of surprised expressions. “I have a cake to eat, and you have better things to do.”

That earns him a far louder cheer than the one that greeted him at the beginning of class, and in between well-wishes for him to have a happy birthday, he makes sure that Sato is going straight to Recovery Girl, and tries to tamper down on that still too anxious urge to run.

His students don’t notice, but an irrational part of him worries that his wards can see through him too clearly right now. It’s something he doesn’t want, that they don’t need, but Eri runs to pull herself into his lap in a way that makes him afraid that she can tell. She can see that they’re too similar, that he looks a bit too much like Shinsou for her not to notice. “Zawa, it doesn’t look like the red velvet cupcakes, but Sato tried really hard to make them for you!”

He finds himself snorting a laugh, looking between his ward and the misshapen cake, and wonders if the relief sinking into him can be explained because it’s Eri. He didn’t know Eri before USJ, and her presence, so clear and present, is the evidence he needs to remember that he’s here. He’s past that. “I could tell. Sato is a very good chef, so I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it, no matter what the cake looks like.”

Shinsou helps Eri into her backpack, having taken it upon himself to clear their desks while she ran to him. ‘ H-A-T-S-U-M-E involved. I don’t know that person. Might have caused injuries. ’

“She probably did,” Aizawa answers, looking towards the cake a bit more warily. He hoped that he wouldn’t also become a casualty of one of her ‘babies.’ “We can wait until Hizashi is done with class to eat it.”

His husband could afford to be slightly poisoned before the party tonight, but Aizawa couldn’t.

He had to act like a happy birthday boy.

*

Aizawa had pretended to be a happy birthday boy until he was counting down the minutes until midnight.

He had endured this horrible, uncomfortable day with uncomfortable obligations and unnecessary attention, and for the sake of his wards, he had endured. But he knew that this day wasn’t over yet, even if the most difficult parts of it were.

Eri’s insistence to keep her party hat on for the rest of the night made his efforts worthwhile, and he was eager for her gift rather than dreading it, even as she seemed nervous to present it to him. She kept shifting from one foot to the other, her picture hidden behind her back while her bright red eyes sent a plea for him to be pleased by her efforts. He didn’t need to see it to know that he would be.

“Happy birthday, Zawa! I really really really hope you like it,” Eri said as soon as Hizashi had lit the final candle on the cake that Toshinori had made. Her eagerness had allowed him to avoid yet another round of singing, and that enough was a gift.

“Thank you, Eri,” Aizawa answered, taking the picture to find that it was actually a card, the third one that she had ever made for a hero. But the front of it wasn’t a portrait of himself in his hero costume, not like the ones that Midoriya and Togata had received.

His eyes were red, but his hair was in a ponytail, his stubble drawn around a smile that everyone else in the picture was wearing. Hizashi’s hair was braided, and Eri was wearing the cat-themed outfit that he had bought for her when she was discharged from the hospital, further evidence in his ongoing argument with Hizashi that she liked it. She liked it enough to draw Shinsou wearing it as well. There’s an abundance of cats drawn in every available space around them. Some are just faces or vague shapes, but four of them are black, white, yellow, and purple, hovering in the air over the heads of the people they were meant to depict. His cat is better than Hizashi’s, in his opinion.

He opened the card to read her letter, and wasn’t prepared for what it said.

‘Happy birthday Zawa! I’m really glad that you were born, so I could meet you and live with you! It’s the favorite part of my whole life, and I’m so happy that you saved me and Twenny. You’re one of the best heroes in the whole world, and I hope you have a lot of happy birthdays, because you deserve all of them, and I’ll work hard to make sure that all of them are the best, and that you get red velvet cake every year! - Eri’

Aizawa ignores the flicker of anxiety that rises when he remembers that they haven’t told her that her wardship wasn’t permanent. It’s a conversation that they should have, eventually, but he refuses to venture down that line of thought, and couldn’t even if he tried.

She returns his smile when he looks at her, and that is another gift that he treasures. “This is the happiest birthday I’ve ever had. Thank you, Eri.”

She clings to his leg before he pulls her into his arms, holding the card out for her to point at the cats that she worked hard on, and the stipple technique that she learned from Bakugo. He praises all of her efforts, and she beams at each remark he makes, but neither of them mention the red eyes.

It’s another conversation that they don’t need to have right now.

When Eri runs out of steam, Hizashi catches his eye and looks to Shinsou, who has been watching Eri’s presentation with a rare and unguarded smile. It fades when he realizes Aizawa is looking at him, the corner of his mouth pulling in a flash of nervousness that still remains in his slightly raised eyebrows when he lifts to sign. ‘ Happy Birthday Zawa Hero. ’

And that was a gift that Aizawa did not expect.

From the corner of his eye, he can see that Hizashi didn’t expect it either, which is surprising. He had thought that Hizashi had been the mastermind of this entire operation, and had been more than a bit uncomfortable with suggesting to his wards that they owed anything to him today. Especially Shinsou.

But if Hizashi was surprised, that meant that this was an honest effort on Shinsou’s part to connect with him. This name was what Shinsou honestly felt towards him. Shinsou thought that he was a hero, in a way that the word didn’t convey as well as the sign did when used in a name sign.

Aizawa was honestly a bit overwhelmed by the implications of it. That he was a hero to Shinsou, in whichever way he meant that. And none of those interpretations had anything to do with him being a stand-in for Chisaki.

“Thank you, Shinsou,” Aizawa answered, because he had to answer with something even if he couldn’t find the words to say what he felt at that moment. “I truly appreciate that.”

Hizashi only let the silence hang for a moment before he jumped in, as he always did to fill what Aizawa couldn’t. “Don’t tell me that I have to wait until my birthday to get a name sign! It’s almost a year away, and I can’t wait that long!”

‘ Current Loudspeaker .’

“No! I - ugh,” Hizashi sighed, slumping over in an exaggerated fit and missing the flicker of a smirk on Shinsou’s face. He rose to level a jealous glare at Aizawa, which he met with a very smug grin. “Blow out your candles and make a wish, so you can finally stop being younger than me.”

“That’s not how it works, cradle robber,” Aizawa teases, and asks Eri to help him blow out his candles, taking advantage of her proximity to let her practice before her own birthday.

He’s rarely made a wish on his birthday. Even as a child, he knew that it wasn’t rational to expect them to come true, and on the birthdays that he did, he’s never made one for himself. This birthday is no different.

He wishes that Shinsou still believes in heroes, in whatever way he sees them. That he could meet whatever expectation that his name sign has placed on him.

Even if the investigation wouldn’t make that easy for him.

*

Birthdays began and ended at the stroke of midnight, and this one was no different.

Hizashi checked his phone while he was in the shower, and he doesn’t need to read it to know what the message likely said. It was in the tenseness of his husband’s shoulders, the furrow of his brow, and the devastated look in his eye.

‘Chisaki’s lawyer accepted the deal. We have until Friday to come up with something better. - Naomasa.’

NC

Hizashi still didn’t agree with him.

“Shou, I know you want to make progress, and I want that too,” Hizashi insists, beginning a braid just to unravel it again, even though he’s already arranged for his classes to be covered and wouldn’t have enough time to fix his hair even if he didn’t. “But I think we should put some distance between what happened last night and the investigation. It’s - how do you think he’s going to take that?”

“He might feel obligated to answer,” Aizawa admits, even if he hates that he’s resorting to this. “And we need him to.”

The time that Hizashi wanted to give Shinsou was the time that Aizawa needed to verify any information he gained from him. He wanted anything, anything credible and actionable, but he hoped that Shinsou would give him the information that Chisaki claimed that he would, to shut that down any chance that the mobster had of reducing his sentence.

Aizawa knew that wasn’t Chisaki’s true aim, and Naomasa knew it as well. Even The Commission couldn’t be so blind, but they acted like they were to expect this ‘formal apology’ to be anything more than a ploy to force Shinsou into the same room as that monster. Chisaki’s real goal was to amuse himself by digging into Shinsou’s wounds before they had any time to heal. To take power over Shinsou again as a brief reprieve from his powerless confinement.

Hizashi knew that too, had called it out immediately, but when faced with their plan of action to avoid it, he wavered. “And will keeping him out of school until he talks make him feel more ‘obligated?’ ”

Isolation was one of the kinder tactics at play here, but it wasn’t entirely for the investigation. Aizawa turned to his husband, taking in the irritation, the frustration, and the way it was folded neatly into a glare meant for someone else, but was aimed at him. “Hizashi. I don’t know what Shinsou will see when I show him this picture. I don’t know what this man has done to him, and I don’t know how Shinsou will react. But whatever comes of it, I don’t want my students to be involved.”

Hizashi glares at the sketch in his hand, the real target of his animosity, but not the sole one. It forces Aizawa to admit what he wanted to leave unspoken.

“And I don’t want him to be left alone afterwards.” 

Hizashi nods slowly, understanding that at least. He needed to be the one to stay here with Shinsou. He needed to be the caretaker to his ward, to protect him even from himself, while Aizawa dealt with the atypical aspects of this case.

Heroes weren’t meant to be part of the investigation like this. They were only meant to protect, to offer sanctuary, and leave investigating to the police. But Naomasa knew before he began looking for a wardship designation that Shinsou couldn’t be afforded that separation, not when he had shut down time and time again at the hands of the police. After what they did to him, necessary or not.

Aizawa feels a bit more sympathetic towards Sansa when he walks to Shinsou’s room, to do something harmful, but necessary.

Hizashi tries to make it easier for him, distracting Eri with getting dressed before she’s awake enough to notice that he’s not Present Mic today, or that it’s unusual for Aizawa to be awake yet. Shinsou doesn’t.

‘ Good morning Zawa Hero, ’ Shinsou signs, his expression blank, his eyes still a bit unfocused from waking up.

Aizawa doesn’t think he will see that name sign again. “Good morning. Come with me to the office.”

He doesn’t look behind him as they walk down the hall, but he notices that Shinsou’s footsteps start to become lighter and harder to detect. He wonders if the abrupt change in routine has called up his training instinctively, or if he hadn’t noticed that Shinsou was a bit less guarded in the morning. If the edges of his training chipped away when he wasn’t there to see it.

Shinsou watches him close the door behind them, and only sits when Aizawa prompts him to. Aizawa keeps the sketch folded in his hands, half hopeful that the reveal could startle Shinsou into telling him what he needs to know, and half to put off the inevitable. “I know this will be difficult for you, but I need you to tell me who this man is.”

As much as he wanted to believe that Chisaki had nothing of substance to offer, Shinsou’s stock-still and naked terror was the most damning confirmation he could have asked for. His eyes are wide, locked on that picture, fingers curling into fists that only grow tighter, knuckles white. He keeps track of Shinsou’s breathing, hopes it doesn’t stop and slow, hopes that his eyes remained focused, present.

“He’s someone you know,” Aizawa says. He has to walk a thin line here, unable to say anything to lead Shinsou and compromise the evidence, yet he knows that Shinsou won’t answer without prompting. “Shake your head or nod.”

Shinsou’s eyes flicker up to him, a silent parting of his lips twisting his expression into a flash of betrayal. Aizawa expected nothing less, and also expected that shaky, dishonest denial.

“The organization that Naomasa is investigating,” Aizawa says, placing the sketch on the corner of the desk, still visible to Shinsou. He watches his violet eyes follow it, hopes that he’ll give him something he can use about that man, to take that option away from Chisaki. “Is still active. Still hurting innocent people. I need you to give me information to stop them.”

Shinsou doesn’t shake his head, only moves it to the side once, just barely. This is a tactic that Aizawa will regret taking, even if it proves to be effective. Even if he needs it to be to save Shinsou from Chisaki.

“Tell me the name of the person who runs it.”

Shinsou was trained to follow orders. He does anything resembling one, from anyone, even Eri. There’s a clear fight behind his eyes, because Aizawa knows that he was trained not to give that information away. It might have been brutal, it might have been drilled into Shinsou deeper than any other order that he was given, but Aizawa is trying to make himself into a greater threat than what the teenager in front of him fears.

He knows it’s not working, which only makes it harder.

‘ I don’t know .’ Shinsou’s hands are shaking, stuttering through the sign. He looks at Aizawa again, betrayal turned to desperation, but Aizawa can’t let up. Can’t listen to the voice that tells him to give up, and let Shinsou keep some form of peace and sanctuary until it’s torn away by Chisaki’s hands again.

“Tell me where the organization’s base is.” Shinsou’s hands lift to repeat the sign, but Aizawa can’t allow that. “I know that you know that, Shinsou.”

His tone is too sharp, and he knows that, but he needs to play on anything available to him, even if it’s as instinctive as wanting to avoid disappointing him. He knows that it’s likely deeper than that for Shinsou, but he refuses to acknowledge it. He needs Shinsou to give him something, anything better than what Chisaki has to offer.

But he went too far. Shinsou’s hands lower, not into fists but to curl around his own wrists, fingers at the ends of one of his scars. He knows that this line of questioning is over now, Naomasa told him that this is a warning sign.

Shinsou will dissociate, badly, if he presses any further.

“Hizashi will be staying here with you today,” Aizawa says, standing and leaving the room before he tells Shinsou that it will be the same every day after that, until he gives them information or Friday comes.

He doesn’t need to tell Hizashi how it went. His husband just frowns and keeps an eye on the door to the office. The office doesn’t have any instruments that Shinsou could use, but if he leaves to go to his room, Hizashi will have to follow him.

The lie they end up telling Eri is that Shinsou has a project to work on with Hizashi, and he can’t go to school until it’s completed. She’s clearly not pleased with that, kicking her feet under the table while she glances at the office, and when it’s time to leave, he should have been better prepared to stop her from bolting towards it.

“Twenny!” Eri calls, running to place her hands on Shinsou’s knees. If there was a moment before Shinsou smiled at Eri and curled a hand around her shoulder, where he still wore the terror that Aizawa had left him in, neither he nor Eri saw it. “You’ve got to be a really good helper today, so you can go to school with me tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Shinsou says, the clench of his jaw afterwards a crack in the deception he’s created for Eri’s sake. “Horn trick.”

Eri sighs in resignation as Shinsou pulls a tissue from a box on Hizashi’s desk for her. The only time that Shinsou acknowledges Aizawa is to glance at him before he begins the process, his expression blank, but less guarded. He taps a spot between two ridges of her horn before he flicks it, and Aizawa nods his understanding.

He’s not surprised that Shinsou would ignore what happened earlier to make sure Eri would be taken care of in his absence.

In this, they were in perfect agreement. Eri wasn’t aware of the investigation, and she shouldn’t be. Shinsou was a skilled enough actor to keep up the illusion, Aizawa was as well, and he hoped that Hizashi wouldn’t slip too often into the Present Mic persona to become one.

Because Aizawa knew that the moment that Eri knew what was going on, he wouldn’t be able to continue the investigation.

He could only afford to be a villain in Shinsou’s eyes.

*

Yamada might have messed up, but he still wants to blame Shouta.

After Shouta and Eri left, Yamada tried to get Shinsou to eat, to try to pretend that this could be a normal day. Shinsou was quiet, too quiet, just staring at his plate while he left Yamada too much room to ramble. Yamada couldn’t deal with silence, he always tried to fill it, especially when the atmosphere was that heavy.

But he knew that rambling wouldn’t help Shinsou, not when he looked so heartbroken. Not when Yamada knew that the timing couldn’t be crueler, for Shouta to pressure him the morning after Shinsou had given him a name sign, a name that he knew the kid had worked so hard on. Shinsou had put his heart into it, when Yamada had only meant for him to create a sign to make fun of Shouta’s hero name.

He thought it might help to explain it, to tell him that Shouta didn’t want to do that. That he was still trying to be a hero for Shinsou, that he was trying to save him from Chisaki again.

“ The people in charge of the investigation made a deal with Chisaki, and it’s… We’re not going to let it happen. ”

But Yamada kept rambling.

“ Chisaki said he would tell them about the organization if he saw you, and that’s why Shou is trying to stop them. If we tell them something - anything! Then Chisaki can’t do that, they won’t let him, and that’s why- “

‘ I want to. ’

Shinsou signed that he wanted to meet with Chisaki. Yamada had still been trying to find the words to say to that, something other than, ‘No, you don’t and I won’t let you,’ when Shinsou left to go to the bathroom. Yamada followed to the hall, just to make sure that he wasn’t going to his room, to tell him that he would have to give up the knives or find another room to do some well-deserved sulking in, but he was distracted by a text message from Toshinori. And he didn’t see Shinsou sneak into his room.

And into the vents.

He noticed the bathroom door was open, and only knew that Shinsou was in the vents because he caught him pulling the cover into the opening to flip it upside down so that it didn’t fall off. And no matter how long he spent talking to his ward, trying to convince him that this was unnecessary and a little dangerous, considering that the heat was turned on, it didn’t matter.

His ward was in the vents , and it was all Shouta’s fault.

And Shouta, again, was completely unhelpful.

Shou: Will ask Nezu to block access. The book from Joke isn’t helpful, Shinsou isn’t food motivated.

Yamada had stared at his phone for a while after reading that text message, struggling against the urge to throw it at something. Shinsou wasn’t a cat stuck behind a dresser, he was a scared kid who had his heart brutally torn out when Shouta interrogated him about the Nomu Organization. And if his fragile trust in heroes had survived that, Yamada had surely crushed it by telling him about what The Commission was planning to do with Chisaki.

That’s why he’s not surprised that coffee doesn’t work either, even if he desperately wanted it to.

Yamada fucked up, he knows that now. He knows that he should have just tolerated the silence, should have kept his mouth shut for once instead of forcing Shinsou to retreat even further. He has no idea how to fix it, what he could possibly do to convince Shinsou to come down, to be able to look at his ward and make sure that he’s alright.

But Yamada knows someone that might know the answer, and he hopes that he can catch her before she goes to work.

And he hopes that when he comes back to Shinsou’s room, the coffee mug that he leaves on his desk might be a little less full.

NC

Yamada was trying.

His mother hasn’t steered him wrong before. Even if she’s never had a kid that hid inside a ventilation shaft, Himiko and Jotaro did have a few little ‘clubhouses’ that he never knew about. She told him it was important to respect the very clear ‘keep out’ sign that Shinsou had put up, and he quickly realizes exactly why he picked the vents instead of his room.

They’ve never made a system for Shinsou to allow them into his room. They’ve just assumed that because he couldn’t tell them to come in, that they should just stroll right in, and keep the kid from having any sense of privacy.

It’s no wonder Shinsou went right for the vents after that, but he really hopes that this can be just a one-off thing, and that he’ll just put a chair under his doorknob next time.

Yamada started off this ‘ignore him to invite him in’ plan by listening to the playlist that his radio station interns put together, to make sure it flowed and had the right kind of atmosphere he wanted. They added a few songs from the Open Mic Night as a nice tie-in for him to announce what song was Shinsou’s favorite, though he hasn’t gotten a straight answer yet. He wavers before he takes Denierre Danse off, because even if Shinsou did like it, French might be just a little touchy for a while.

After playing a few moodier songs, he decided to change it up to a playlist he hadn’t listened to in years - ‘Hizashi’s Tear Tracks.’ He really thought that was clever when he was a teenager.

The Cure, The Gazette, Depeche Mode, and a hundred other artists combined to make the perfect soundtrack for any broken hearted teenager. It’s a little ironic that he would play this for Shinsou to help him through what Shouta did, when Yamada had made it to deal with his unrequited high school crush on Shouta.

He didn’t know that it wasn’t entirely unrequited until they were in their early twenties, and with hindsight being 20/20, he’s a little glad for that. He had been embarrassingly lovestruck, and still a bit too self-absorbed to have really made any relationship between them work. He was too young to take Shouta’s reserved nature as anything other than disinterest, or the verbal barbs they still traded as something other than irritation. He would have been a wreck in under a week, while in his twenties, he was able to put up with it for about a month before he broke down and asked Shouta if he even liked him. Shouta might have called him an idiot in response, but he started learning how many ways that Shouta could call him an idiot and still mean it as a term of endearment.

Shirakumo could tell back then. He could smile in the face of Shouta’s pouting and egg him on until he smiled. And even if Yamada didn’t know how he did it, he was insanely jealous of Shirakumo for doing that. For being the guy that Shouta clearly had a crush on, for being so damn cheerful and sincere all the time. For being the guy that Yamada pretended to be, until he was alone in his bedroom and stuck with himself for a few hours, sulking about all the ways he’s not like Shirakumo at all.

He wonders how much of that sincerity was real for Shirakumo, especially when he spends more time with Togata. When Togata was just a student to him, he was almost painful to look at. The class clown, surrounded by people who loved him, hero hopefuls who looked up to him. That cheerful smile that he thought was sincere, he now knows is a mask. If it always was, Yamada never paid enough attention to know it, but he knows it now and often wonders if it was the same for Shirakumo. If Shirakumo just never had the opportunity to let it break, let himself be vulnerable for a while.

Yamada hasn’t always been the best shoulder to cry on, and he wouldn’t have been for Shirakumo. He just can’t stand the silence, can’t stand the tears because he starts to cry them too. In a way, it might be better that Shinsou drew away instead of letting him in, because he cares about the kid too much to be able to stand the sight of him crying.

He still wants to comfort him, in any way that Shinsou will let him. Even if it’s just being his personal DJ for a while.

*

Yamada heard the thud, and had to stop himself from going to Shinsou’s room to squeeze himself into the vents to make sure that his ward hadn’t just passed out.

He asked Principal Nezu to turn down the heat for the staff dorm almost an hour ago, and all he’s gotten in response is that ever-terrifying ‘:3’ face. As much as he doesn’t want to get in hot water with his boss, he definitely needs to make sure Shinsou doesn’t get hurt while he’s sequestering himself in the ventilation system.

He knows he’s supposed to ignore it, that he’s supposed to be calm and inviting and trying to talk to Shinsou before he’s ready will make him less ready to talk. But his ward might be simmering like a little purple sausage in there.

“Shinsou?” Yamada calls, then pulls himself to stand on his computer chair to try to see into the vent, finding it still too high up and completely dark besides. “Hey, I know you don’t want to talk right now, but I just want to make sure you’re alright. Maybe you can clap for me, just so I know you’re okay?”

Yamada shouldn’t have taken his eyes off of him. His ward was in the vents , and it’s winter so the heat is turned up to full blast, and as warm as it is in the dorm, it had to be blistering in that vent. And Shinsou was wearing long sleeves, he might not take his shirt off, and he probably hasn’t drank any water today, or anything really.

His ward is probably passed out in the ventilation system. 

He’s just such a good caretaker for that to happen. It’s just fantastic that Shinsou trusts him, that Shinsou has put his faith into him like that. Yamada is just so goddamn equipped to help Shinsou, the best hero for the job, really.

Yamada hears his phone chirp and hopes that Nezu isn’t asking why the Rat Robocops are throwing an error while they examine Shinsou’s unconscious body. But instead, he finds a chat notification.

From his chat with Shinsou.

Jean Valjean: I can’t talk anyway.

Yamada sits down in a huff, running a hand over his face as he tries not to feel so giddy that Shinsou finally used this chat. Because he definitely should have changed his username after the issue with French came up, and it was honestly a bit tasteless when he made it.

But, Shinsou was talking to him. Out of spite, maybe, but they were talking. And that was a good sign that the vent situation might clear up soon, as long as he didn’t screw it up.

Current Radio: Sorry! That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. You doing okay though?

Jean Valjean: I’m fine.

Current Radio: I’d turn down the heat if I could, but Nezu controls the thermostat. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to bring you some water?

Jean Valjean: I’m not coming out.

Yamada throws his head against the back of the chair. He needs to respect the ‘clubhouse,’ he needs to be grateful that Shinsou is talking to him. But Shinsou needs to get out of there before he loses it.

Current Radio: That’s okay! I just want to make sure you’re alright. 

Current Radio: Meet any cool robots up there?

Jean Valjean: Not a cool one.

Current Radio: You’re okay, right? It didn’t hurt you or anything? Those things are kind of dangerous, Nezu kinda went off the rails designing them. I think just one of them could take down 3 of me!

Jean Valjean: Just throw them. They’re fast but easily confused.

Current Radio: That might just come in handy one of these days, little listener!

Yamada waited. He ground his teeth, typing out ‘Still okay?’ just to delete it right after. Shinsou thought the vents were safe, he needed space to decompress, but the vents weren’t safe and he just really wanted to see his ward with his own eyes. He just needed to make sure that he was okay.

Current Radio: Whatcha thinking about for lunch? I should probably use the last of the bean sprouts before they start turning, but I don’t know what to make

Jean Valjean: I’m not coming out.

Current Radio: I know. I can put it in there with ya! You won’t have to come out until you want to. I just want to make sure you get to eat something.

Current Radio: Did any of my tunes catch your fancy?

Jean Valjean: I didn’t dislike them.

Yamada frowned. Shinsou was only responding to questions, and with short messages in return. He was probably just pestering the poor kid, who was only putting up with it because he had to. Because he was afraid that Yamada might get angry if he didn’t.

Current Radio: That’s good! We can just listen to the music for a while, and if you like something, just let me know! I’ve got some nifty little programs that can pull a bunch of songs together based off of one, and maybe we can find a few more songs you like from that!

Yamada pulled up his own playlists and switched to one dedicated to songs with a heavy bass - ‘Can’t Hear You.’ Whenever he needed a break from his hearing aids but didn’t really want to deal with silence, he would drive out of the city and find an empty parking lot, crank up the volume and just let the music vibrate him.

He would have liked to take advantage of the day off to do just that, but he still needed to keep an ear out for his ward. Maybe if Shinsou would come out, he could go deaf for a while so that they could just talk through sign. It might help him remember how it feels to sign to someone’s turned back. 

After a few songs, he gets a surprising message.

Jean Valjean: Can you play that part again

Yamada does, finding himself a little intrigued to know what the acoustics of the ventilation system made it sound like. Shinsou might be getting quite a show in there.

Current Radio: What’s it sound like in there?

Jean Valjean: Can you stop

Ouch. Okay, point taken. Hands off of the clubhouse, stop bothering the poor kid.

Jean Valjean: I didn’t mean to sendthat Im sorry I dontwant tohear this

Yamada hits ‘skip’ immediately, and turns back to his phone. That seemed a little worse than the usual mis-sent message nerves, and he hoped that song wasn’t familiar for Shinsou. Dissociation was probably the only risk worse than heat stroke while he was in there.

Current Radio: It’s okay!

Current Radio: I send texts too early all the time! One time I tried to tell Shou to pick up some take out because I was about to go into an emergency call and I didn’t know how long I’d be incommunicado, but all I sent was ‘Pick up.’

Current Radio: So Shou thought I was injured or close to death or something, and he was panicking the entire time! He was searching the city and calling every hospital, trying to find me while I was playing Whack-a-Mole with a gang of tunneling quirks.

Current Radio: Shou was so mad when I finally called him back lol

Jean Valjean: You didn’t laugh.

Text rambling got Shinsou all the way back to sass. Yamada couldn’t help but smile.

Current Radio: Ya caught me!

Current Radio: So, what’s it sound like in there? It’s probably got a lot of reverb, so this music must sound pretty neat.

Jean Valjean: It’s weird.

Jean Valjean: It’s stupid. It sounded

Current Radio: I bet it’s not stupid! There was one time that I kind of got a little drunk, and for SOME reason, I wanted to know what chickens hear before they hatch. I’m pretty sure Nemuri was behind it, somehow. But I wound up with eggshells held over my ears while she played the sound of someone’s heartbeat, and I don’t even remember what it sounded like, but I was crying. And Nemuri was laughing. And Shou recorded the whole thing for blackmail.

He hears a snort from the vent above his head, barely loud enough to hear over the music. He wonders if Shouta still had that video, maybe Shinsou would laugh if he saw it.

Jean Valjean: It’s weird. It sounded like my quirk felt.

Oh. 

For all Yamada’s rambling and wordsmith capabilities, he doesn’t really know what to say to that. Shinsou hates his quirk, he hates it enough to reject it completely, probably to the point that it’s physically affecting it. Monoma wouldn’t have a reason to lie to him.

He knows that Shinsou needs to see a quirk specialist, but that’s not going to happen until the investigation is closed. There’s a lot of specialists that Shinsou needs to see, and he can’t get the help that he needs right now. 

He only has Yamada.

Current Radio: It’s not weird to me, you know. I think it’s kind of cool.

Current Radio: I was just thinking about how I play this kind of music when I take my hearing aids out. I can’t hear it, but it feels like I can??? It’s kind of hard to explain, but I think you can get it.

Shinsou doesn’t say anything for a while, and Yamada wonders if he should ask if he’s okay again, just to make sure he responds, but he does.

Jean Valjean: I didn’t know you were deaf.

Current Radio: I’ve got some pretty nifty hearing aids so villains don’t find out! lol 

Current Radio: But it kind of comes with the quirk, and I was born with mine, so I’ve been deaf as long as I can remember!

Bringing his own quirk up might not have been the best idea.

Current Radio: What do you want for lunch, zaru soba or hiyashi chuka?

Jean Valjean: Hiyashi chuka

Perfect, out of two cold dishes, Shinsou picked the one with the most vegetables. Not that he ever complained about vegetables, or about anything really, but it was nice that he picked that one.

It was also pretty quick to make, especially after boiling the noodles first then chopping the vegetables and mixing a sauce while he waited for them to cool. Yamada took his time arranging everything in swirls of color, with the pale green beansprouts on top, though it would probably get a little messed up when he set it into the ventilation shaft.

He didn’t even think about the door that he left open until he walks into Shinsou’s room and sees his ward for the first time since this morning.

Shinsou is hanging upside down from the ceiling, sweating and flushed, and he looks like he was trying to reach for the coffee before he realized that Yamada was standing there. He watches his ward pull himself back up towards the open vent, and the rush of panic knocks him out of his initial confusion.

“Wait, wait! I should’ve knocked, you don’t have to-”

Yamada can’t help the sigh of relief when he sees Shinsou pull himself out of the shaft instead, standing on his chair before he quickly steps down. ‘ It’s fine. I’m sorry. ’

Yamada just smiles, relieved that this is finally over. His ward looks a little worse for the wear, but at least he can see that, at least they’re really talking. “It’s okay, kiddo! Everyone needs some space sometimes, I totally get that. If you want to eat in your room, that’s okay too, and I won’t bother you or anything.”

Shinsou runs a hand over the back of his head before he signs again, still looking a little more guilty than he should be. ‘ Not a bother. ’

And finally , the clubhouse opened up. Shinsou didn’t just want to get out of the vents, but it sounded like he was finally ready to talk. Maybe about what happened, maybe about anything else to distract from that. Whatever Shinsou wanted from him, Yamada would gladly give it. “Let’s see if you’re still singing that tune by the end of the day! Even Shou can’t handle me for too long before I bother him to death, but I was thinking that maybe we could just use sign today, since it’s just us. I’m probably a lot easier to deal with when I’m on mute.”

Goddammit . 

If Yamada didn’t have his hands full, he would slap himself. Him and his big mouth got him into this mess to begin with, and even after nearly five hours of wondering if his ward was having heatstroke or not, that just falls right out of his mouth.

Shinsou raises his eyebrows, and Yamada absolutely deserves whatever non-verbal lashing he’s going to get, but instead he sees a flash of a smirk before it goes away. ‘ Rude. ’

“Yep, super rude, I’m going to shut up now,” Yamada swears, setting the cold ramen and water bottles on the desk for Shinsou to decide whether he wants to eat in his room or risk being around Yamada’s big mouth again. “And I’m going deaf in three, two, one.”

The steady ringing of his hearing aids echoed a bit before everything else fell silent, and he couldn’t help but rub the sore cartilage a bit. Powerloader worked wonders with making hero gear comfortable and efficient, but near constant wear still had its drawbacks.

He popped his hearing aids back into their little case and put it in his pocket, before he looked up to see Shinsou still staring at him, eyes widened with a bit of concern.

‘ You don’t have to, ’ Shinsou signed. ‘ I didn’t mean that. ’

‘ It’s fine! I haven’t taken my ears out for a while. It’s nice! ’ Yamada signs back. ‘ Nice to spend day talking with my favorite listener. ’

‘ But not talking ,’ Shinsou signs back, and Yamada is glad that he has his hands free, because even when his mouth is shut, he can still say the wrong thing. He still slaps a hand over it out of habit, but when he does, he realizes that he might have taken his hearing aids out a little too early.

He watches Shinsou laugh, just a smile and huff before he catches himself, and Yamada can’t help but smile behind his hand before he pulls it away. ‘ Stop bullying me! ’

Shinsou absolutely does not , even if he signs that he’s sorry. Every little slip that Yamada makes gets called out immediately, and he has to take more than his fair share of ‘ Now Music’ s and ‘ Current Radio ’s on the chin.

He definitely regrets giving Shinsou coffee, especially after watching the kid drink it with his hiyashi chuka, which had to be disgusting. And the boost in energy wasn’t hindering his ability to come up with bad hero names, at all.

But Yamada was sure this was just the start of a great day off.

*

Bakugo is just fucking tired. He’s ready for this shit day to be over, because then he might be able to sleep for a few fucking hours. He needs a fucking nap, like a fucking toddler, and it’s fucking bullshit. Fuck midterms, everyone’s all over his ass and he has a lot of shit on his plate to begin with.

Fuck that stupid fucking project Shitsei gave him. It doesn’t know shit , none of those books or websites know shit. He’s not fucking-

He’s not going to sound like fucking Shitsou’s dumb ass . But he’s not. Fucking. Traumatized. 

He got kidnapped, it was fucked up. They didn’t actually do shit to him. He might have gotten a little fucked up after All Might retired, but who fucking wasn’t? It was All Might . Everyone was pissing their pants at that point, because All Might is fucking All Might , and he’s not like that anymore, and it’s all Bakugo’s fucking fault.

Fuck whoever keeps blowing up his phone. It’s probably Kaminari’s dumb ass, going apeshit over a new meme or some shit.

But it’s not. It’s fucking Shitsou going apeshit.

If Eri ever swears I will kill you and no one will find the body: How do you not log off?

If Eri ever swears I will kill you and no one will find the body: You owe me an interview.

If Eri ever swears I will kill you and no one will find the body changed their name to Shit chan

Shit chan: You said something about grounding.

Shit chan: I can’t look it up.

Shit chan: I’m in a vent.

Shit chan: Mental quirks don’t work on me.

Shit chan: What do you want to know

Shit chan: I don’t know what you want to know in exchange.

Ojiro should have broken your neck changed their name to Your fucking therapist, apparently

Your fucking therapist, apparently: CHILL YOUR FUCKING TITS. I’ve been in class, dipshit.

Your fucking therapist, apparently: Why the fuck don’t they have a therapist for you or some shit? I’m not fucking paid to do this

Your fucking therapist, apparently: Fucking avoidance and detriggering exercise bullshit apparently fucking works

Your fucking therapist, apparently: AND WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN A VENT?

Shit chan: Explain detriggering exercises in exchange.

Shitty Hair tried to lean over his shoulder to look at his phone, still fucking chewing on a giant fucking meatball sub. “Mrf nrfn t-”

“ CHEW ,” Bakugo growled, putting a hand over Shitty Hair’s mouth like he’s a fucking toddler who doesn’t know how to fucking eat and talk, because he fucking is. He’s fucking surrounded by idiots who don’t know how to do fucking anything.

Shitty Hair swallows, and his lips do some weird fucking shit that feels way too much like a fucking gay fucking kiss bullshit fuckery, and Bakugo is not fucking dealing with that right now. “You’re talking to Shinsou?”

“He’s pulling this mafia-ass bullshit from a fucking vent,” Bakugo says, typing out instructions on how to not be a weak little bitch for Shitsou. Even if this is not his fucking job, someone needs to do this shit, and just like every fucking thing else, that means it’s Bakugo’s job.

Sero can’t wrap his stupid fucking brain around Pre-Calc? Why go to a real fucking tutor when Bakugo’s there! Kaminari and Ashido didn’t fucking study worth shit the whole term, but why fucking worry now? Bakugo’s there to duct tape them to their fucking desks and pound that shit into their skulls. Headphone bitch keeps fucking “studying” art history with Yaoyorozu, and now she has no fucking idea what their essay is supposed to look like, but hey, Bakugo’s there.

His fucking teachers can’t be assed to handle Shitsou, and now it’s Bakugo’s problem. He doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing to Shitsou when no one’s looking, but if Shitsou keeps coming to him with this kind of shit, he can know they’re not doing shit for his fucked up brain problems.

Your fucking therapist, apparently: You do the fucking shit that triggers you when you’re all comfy and safe and shit, then stop when it starts to fuck you up. And you fucking do that WITH A REAL FUCKING THERAPIST.

Shit chan: I don’t have time to get one.

Shit chan: I needed to get away from Yamada.

Your fucking therapist, apparently: Tell me what the fuck is going on and I’ll give you some fucking PTSD hacks this weekend. Deal, fucking yakuza ass bitch?

Shit chan: 1. I need the hacks now. 2. I am a yakuza, you’re not insulting me.

Your fucking therapist, apparently: Bullshit, and I’m done fucking around with you. Tell me what the fuck is going on or I’m eating lunch and ignoring your ass.

Shit chan: What is hiashi chuka

Your fucking therapist, apparently: Cold ramen with a fuckton of veggies, the next thing you send better be a fucking explanation or I’m fucking done.

“Dude,” Shitty Hair says, way too fucking close to his ear with all the fucking lip sounds and chewing going on. “Does Shinsou not really know what-”

“Fucker lost his shit over a soda, so no, he probably doesn’t fucking know what half the shit he eats is,” Bakugo answers, tossing his phone onto the table. If Shitsou doesn’t fucking respond, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s not going to give a shit about a guy who thinks he’s anything like a fucking villain . Fucker probably talks to him because he’s fucked in the head and thinks they’re fucking friends or some shit, but Bakugo doesn’t give a shit about him.

“Dude, we should order some pizza this weekend! Like, with every topping, so we can find out-”

His phone vibrates and Bakugo snatches it up, and if it’s not a straightforward fucking answer, he’s skipping next period just so he can throw his phone at Shitsou’s face and be done with this shit.

Shit chan: They’re taking me to see Chisaki for the investigation, and I can’t log out when I see him.

Bakugo shuts off his phone before Shitty Hair can see it, kicks his chair out, and starts walking to the staff room. Shitty Hair still wants to know what Shitsou said, but fuck that.

Fuck that, fuck that, fuck all of this. This is fucked up and if Shitsei doesn’t explain this shit or tell him that Shitsou is just being too fucking stupid to fucking compute his real fucking reality, Bakugo will fucking murder him.

Shitsou just better be fucking wrong about that shit, and if Shitsei has any fucking involvement in that shit, he’s fucking dead . He fucking knows this shit, he fucking knows what that would do to Shitsou, it doesn’t take a fucking genius to know that Shitsou is already crazier than a bag of cats, and no one could handle that kind of shit to begin with. Chisaki is fucking crazy and Deku should have knocked his head clean fucking off and done the whole fucking world a favor for it.

Bakugo kicks the door open, and has to stop himself from murdering the fuck out of Shitsei right then and there, because fucking Eri is crying and she runs up to him, and holds on to his leg. The brat doesn’t fucking like him, he fucking gets it, so if she’s that fucking upset, Shitsei fucking deserves what’s coming to him.

“Ugo, I don’t wanna do the horn trick!” Eri says in that whiney, pathetic little voice that’s so fucking irritating to hear. It’s like nails on a fucking chalkboard, and if murdering the fuck out of someone will get it to stop, Bakugo can and will do that shit.

But she did not just fucking call him ‘Ugo.’ “Did you just fu-frigging call me a ugly freaking boot?”

She just whines and sniffles, and it’s fucking disgusting . She shouldn’t be at school if she’s fucking sick, and fucking Shitsei should know that. She needs to sleep and eat soup and shit, and even if he doesn’t have the fucking time, he’s going to have to make some to cook some bland ass soup she could handle. “Kiri calls you Baku, so I can’t call you that.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, because this stupid little naming system is fucking stupid, and he doesn’t give a shit about it, at all, because it’s fucking stupid. “Call me ‘Baku.’ If Crappy Hair throws a fit about it, I’ll beat his ass.”

Eri just sniffs again, probably getting snot all over his fucking uniform, but if he kicked her, she’d go flying, so he just has to let this shit happen. Shitsei looks like he was trying to get her to blow her nose or some shit, still holding that fucking tissue in his hand, but he’s so fucking incompetent that he doesn’t know how to get that shit on her fucking nose instead of letting this shit happen to his fucking pants.

Unless he does know, and he’s just being an asshole. “Oi, your fucking mole has some intel, and I’m not talking about it in front of her.”

Shitsei looks at Eri, then tosses the tissue on the desk. “Eri, stay here while I talk to Ugo.” Fucking asshole.

Bakugo can’t fucking move until he does that stupid little pat thing on Eri’s head, even though he’s the only fucking one who doesn’t treat her like she’s a fucking dog, but thanks to everyone else, she doesn’t fucking let go until he does. He follows Shitsei across the room, thinking there’s some secret trapdoor or some shit, but Shitsei just opens a fucking window and hops out, like that’s fucking normal.

Fuck it, they’re on the first floor at least, and Shitsei has some fucking explaining to do.

“What did Shinsou say on the chat?” Shitsei asks, and Bakugo slams the window shut because Eri does not need to hear this shit, if she doesn’t know it already. And if she does, Shitsei’s fucking dead.

“Why the fuck are you taking him to Chisaki?!” Bakugo hisses, trying not to yell because of fucking Eri, and trying not to fire off his fucking quirk because he fucking needs to right now. “He’s bugging the shit out of me from a fucking vent -”

“Who else knows about that?” Shitsei asks, trying to be all commanding and shit, but absolutely, unequivocally, fuck that noise.

“Why. The fuck. Is this happening?” Bakugo asks, and he feels like he’s going to explode. He pops off a few crackles just to stave it off, just so he can breathe , but he’s seeing fucking red. All those whiney ass elementary school counselors would probably shit their pants if they could see how pissed he is now, all that bullshit self-managed anger bullshit they tried to teach him never fucking worked , and it sure as shit wouldn’t do anything now.

Because Shitsei just blinks at him and doesn’t fucking care . He doesn’t give a shit about how fucked up this is, and that’s the most fucked up part about it. He’s a fucking hero , he spews this shit about what heroes are supposed to do every fucking day, how they’re supposed to act, he can’t just fucking let this happen.

“Give me one fucking good reason why I shouldn’t-”

“It’s out of my hands,” Shitsei says, all quiet and shit. “I need you to convince Shinsou to work with the investigation so it doesn’t come to that.”

Bakugo just shakes his head, can’t even fucking look at Shitsei right now. “Fuck you.”

“We both want to stop this-”

“Then stop it!” Bakugo yells, he doesn’t fucking care if Eri hears, if everyone hears, this is just. Too fucked up . He fucking laughs and doesn’t know why, he fucking feels like he’s in a goddamn tailspin, because this is fucking Aizawa-sensei. He could just fucking stop it. “Fuck, why the fuck can’t you just fucking- Why the fuck is it me?! Why the fuck do you think I can do anything?! You’re the goddamn hero! You- for fucking once , just handle this shit for yourself! Fuck!”

Shitsei steps forward and Bakugo steps back, fuck that stupid ass Good Boy Pat, he doesn’t fucking need it, he needs to fucking breathe.

He does, he fucking counts his fucking breaths, he fucking times his fucking quirk, counting and numbers and bullshit that he’s always fucking gotten easier than fucking breathing , and he gets over that shit. 

Fuck it. Fuck all these heroes that don’t do shit in the end, and even if he sounds like a villain for thinking that shit, he’s not.

He’s going to be the greatest fucking hero of all time, because he’ll never sit back and watch that shit happen. Shitsou probably won’t listen to a fucking word he says, but even if he literally has to beat the shit out of him, he’ll be better off bleeding than dealing with seeing Chisaki again. Even if he has to pretend he’s friends with the fucking corpse faced dick, he’s not letting this shit happen.

Bakugo opens the window and jumps back through, hoping that Eri didn’t hear his fucking meltdown, but when he looks around to see if she’s hiding under a desk or some shit, he doesn’t see her.

Shitsei’s still trying to get his bony ass back through the window when Bakugo turns around to ask him.

“Where the fuck is Eri ? ”

*

The day is nice, cloudy and hazy in a way that reminds Aoyama of home. It’s far too nice to spend lunch inside, to miss the slight chill and gray skies, and Aoyama knows that he won’t be missed inside anyway.

Midoriya does invite him to sit with him occasionally, and often Sato will reserve him a seat, but Aoyama knows that neither will miss him too terribly if he instead takes his lunch outside. Even if it is a lonely place this time of year, perhaps it suits him.

Perhaps beautiful days are much like beautiful people, and they must feel lonely at times as well.

But before he selects a seat, he sees that there might be another reason for him to be drawn to the gray sky chill today. He sees that a lonely princess sits high upon her tower, waiting for a shining knight to bring her comfort with his cape.

He has forgotten his, but his blazer will have to do, as something must be done to protect little Eri from this cold and cloudy day. “Mon petit princesse, these tears do not suit you.”

They did not, neither did her trembling lips or worried expression. Whatever foul beast had driven their sweet princess to seek sanctuary alone in a tree outside must truly be a horrible one. “M’ sorry, Yama.”

“Non! I’ll not take an apology when I am owed none!” Aoyama protests, hand on his heart and the other thrust to the sky, challenging the powers above to bear witness to this tragedy. Their sweet princess driven to tears, driven to sniffles and apologies, and the cruelty of it is too much. “Mon petit, you must tell me who has driven you to such loneliness, such sorrow, and the shining hero will rain justice upon them!”

Eri tugs his cape tighter around herself, frowning with such sadness that broke his heart to see. “No one was mean to me. I’m just sad. I just,” Eri’s lips trembled again, tears flowing anew, and Aoyama wished to call Midoriya for aid, knowing that he could stop this sorrow far better than he could. Could bear the sight of it far better. “I really don’t like my-y quir-rk.”

A sob began, but it was a familiar one. A twinge in Aoyama’s chest now sings in bitterness and in hope. In this, he could understand, though he hated to see such sorrow besides. He pulls himself to sit beside his new companion in this familiar pain, tucking his arm around her shoulders to give her a bit more warmth. “That is a thing I’ve often struggled with myself, mon petit. My sparkles were not often kind to me in my youth.”

Eri looked at him, perhaps surprised to know that the bright and shining knight had wounds beneath his armor. It was not a thing that many knew. “But it’s cute. It’s nice. My quirk is bad.”

“Non,” Aoyama whispered gently. “Your quirk is not bad. It is kind, as Midoriya says, but we both know that kind and ‘cute’ quirks may often be hard to bear. Mine brings me pain at times, and embarrassment. I suppose we are not so different in this, though I hate to see you bear it.”

Eri shook her head, pressing her hand to the curve of her horn. Like he thought, these odd little sniffles were to do with it, and his heart ached at the thought. Their sweet princess, and her hidden pain, and what little that could be done about it. “I want to do nice things, and fix Mirio, but it hurts. It hurts and it makes me mean, and it makes me ugly. I don’t wa-ant my-y quirk, Yama-a.”

He brushed at her soft cheeks as the tears fell anew, wishing he had more than pretty words and an ill-fitting cape to offer her. “Mon petit, I will never shame you, but your words are quite wrong. You are our beautiful princess, and your quirk will never change this. If there were a spell that could be cast to save you from your troubles, I would say it, but I only have a song.”

It is a mournful song, a sad one, but the princess he knows likes songs. Especially ones with pretty words, and pretty words do suit her well. Especially these.

“Un cadeau que j'ai apporte des ennuis

Et ils peuvent me faire tomber

Mais je vais briller si brillant et fier

Et donner le meilleur

Le reste je garde et nourris

Parce que c'est la mienne

Et je m'aimerai pour moi

Aimerai mes larmes et fronce les sourcils.”

The tears have stopped, and Aoyama does not know if the sounds are enough to soothe her. If the words may do her well, as they did for him in his youth.

“Ma papa wrote this song for me, for even when I did not like my quirk, I loved songs. It reminded me to love myself, every part, because there is much good that we can do through that. But also because, we must love ourselves, mon petit,” Aoyama says, smiling gently to the little soul who still shines brightly in the darkness. “It is very sad and lonely if we don’t.”

“Yama,” Eri says, wrapping her arms around his stomach. Her little warmth quiets the chill on his arms, and the nervous hope that his words, though not fluent as they never were, were enough. “I don’t want you to be sad and lonely.”

“I am not, mon petit,” Aoyama says, because the truth is not for her ears. It is not for anyone’s ears, not but the ears of his friends that he left at home, the ones who knew his mother tongue, and heard the troubles that he whispered in his room at night.

He wanted to be a bright and shining hero, and UA was the place for that. But a knight’s armor does not always fill a heart that longs for home.

“I am the shining hero, whose sparkling cannot be stopped!” Aoyama declares, his signature pose moves his arms away, but he hopes it inspires the little princess to see that her troubles can be carried on to a bright and shining future. That he had carried his this far.

He earns a little smile, a rare and fleeting thing, and he treasures it all the more from his little princess. “Yama, I like your other smile.”

He gives it to her again, as even if few can see it, his princess deserves it all the more for knowing. “Mon petit, I shall give you this smile always. And whenever your brave heart fails you, I will give you the song to help.”

“Yeah, make him sing it again, Eri,” Jirou says, and Aoyama nearly falls from his perch when he realizes that she has been standing behind him for quite some time. Her soft smile betrays no mockery, her fingers toying with the ends of her ear quirk. “You can actually carry a pretty nice tune. It would have been nice to know that before the festival.”

His princess looks at him with hope in her eyes, but his courage fails him, a rosy blush that does not suit him heating his face. “Non! My songs are meant for only a few, and meant for my mother tongue.”

He hopes that he did not again slip into it as he spoke, as Jirou looks at him with a bit of shock, before it cools into her jovial half-smile. “Still, I think you would have worked into our set pretty well. It would kind of be badass to have a Japanese-French duet.”

Kind words, but there is nothing for it now. The festival has passed, and the stage would have been frightening besides. He still marvels at how Jirou could have bared her heart so bravely, though in singing for Eri, he realizes it was an easier matter. They were meant to be brave heroes, and to sing for a little girl who needed cheer was a heroic task indeed.

“Aizawa-sensei was looking for you, so I think we should probably meet up with him,” Jirou says, and their little princess frowns in worry over what she had done. Aoyama did not even think to ask if she had become lost, too intent to soothe her worries. “But maybe Aoyama can sing for us while we walk?”

Jirou is surprisingly intent upon this, but when their princess asks for it with her shy and trembling words, he cannot refuse. He lifts her easily to settle her on the ground, and his heart is made full and warm as she holds onto his hand, the words of his songs falling more easily, more brilliantly, more bright.

He finds himself wicked and amused by Jirou’s attempt to accompany him in song, her words stilted and clumsy in a way that he has struggled with often. But he finds himself less amused long before they return the princess to her rightful place at their teacher’s side. He finds that he missed hearing those words spoken so close, even if Jirou does not manage them.

That aching feeling reaches a pitch when Jirou mentions that they should practice before next year, as though he has already agreed to the stage, and in this, he finds little protest.

He finds that clumsy words can still be meaningful, and they can brighten a lonely day.

*

Mirio can be kind of a selfish guy sometimes.

He’s always known he wanted to be a hero, because he likes being the kind of guy that people depend on. As much as he hates seeing people down, he likes being the guy that turns that frown upside down. It’s a great feeling, and one that he can kind of get addicted to sometimes.

Especially with Eri.

Eri is a really sweet kid, and Mirio wants to give her the world, because she honestly deserves it. She’s been through a lot, and if every smile and plushie and game they play together can rewrite her past just a little bit more, he’s more than happy to do it. And Eri has always seemed just a little more comfortable doing those things with him than anyone else, just because he’s never been ashamed to act like a kid or do something embarrassing. It’s even easier with Eri, because she doesn’t have anyone her own age to play with.

But Eri looks so adorable when she tries to act like a high school student, just like she is right now. She’s copying his notes with a purple crayon, eyebrows pinching together with every tricky word she spells out. He’s not really paying that much attention to the lecture, which might come back to bite him on the midterm, but it’s kind of impossible to when Eri is just so cute .

And he’s kind of missed her since Shinsou came to UA.

He and Eri used to be practically attached at the hip, with Aizawa-sensei’s busy schedule and Mirio being more available than Nejire and Tamaki. They had internships, and he didn’t. They had to get ready to graduate, to really go plus ultra on their studies, and Mirio kind of didn’t.

He hasn’t given up on getting his quirk back, not after Shinsou told him that Eri could use her quirk without pain, even if it took longer. And he already knew that he would be waiting a long time for her to get control over it anyway.

He was happy to wait. To be Eri’s own personal hero, while he couldn’t really be a real one. While his friends started their hero careers, he could watch and cheer them on.

It was easy to ignore that kind of depressing stuff when he was with Eri, but since Aizawa-sensei seemed to be doing less hero work, he wasn’t around her as much. And he really missed that, to the point that he was a little too happy that Shinsou wasn’t at school today.

Even though he knew Eri was upset about that.

It was hard to tell with Eri. At first, she was just so shy all the time that it was hard to tell if she was having a good time or a bad one, unless it was really good or really bad. He’s noticed that she’s a lot braver with showing her emotions when Shinsou’s around, and usually a lot happier, but he definitely remembers how to tell when Eri is not really having a good time but too shy to talk about it. 

It’s hard to even say what it is about her that tips him off, maybe just his hero instincts, but he might be the only one in the room who isn’t surprised when that frown gets even more upside down.

“You okay?” Mirio whispers, hoping that maybe he’s caught her just in time, but he sees the wobbly lip and knows that he isn’t.

Eri shakes her head, curling her arms up on her desk before she lays her head down, and like a cloudburst, the crying really starts. Mirio tries to pat her back, noticing that every other hero in the room has noticed now. Even though Aizawa is trying to carry on with the lecture, he’s still looking over just to make sure that Eri’s not getting too upset.

“What’s wrong?” Mirio asks, stretching over his desk to practically lay his head on hers with her, because if she does work up the courage to talk about what’s upsetting her, it’s usually pretty quiet at first.

This time, it’s not really quiet at all. “ Mo-o-om ,” Eri whimpers, before another sob picks up, and she kicks one of her feet against her desk. “I wa-ant my mo-om .”

Mirio, and probably Aizawa-sensei, are the only people in this room who know who Eri’s really talking about, but everyone knows exactly how Eri feels right now. Everyone was the preschool crier at least once, just a little kid who was excited about fun games and making friends at school until the reality of being away from mom or dad hit when they least expected it, and hit harder than a little kid could really handle.

Aizawa-sensei’s lecture is pretty much over now, because even if the upperclassmen pride themselves on being better behaved than the first years, no one could hear that familiar cry and do nothing to stop it.

“Eri!” Neji calls before she jumps out of her desk, running over to hug her as best as she could while Eri still laid on the desk. Sohma started asking if anyone had a cup so he could summon water into it, President Touja offered to use his quirk to predict what Aizawa-sensei was going to lecture on so that Aizawa-sensei could step out, and half of the class was telling Eri that it was okay, trying to encourage her even if they didn’t know her well enough to know what she really needed.

And Eri definitely didn’t need Shizuo’s offer. “I know an acupuncture tec-”

“Shizuo,” Mirio interrupts, finding it hard to remind himself that a lot of hero students didn’t know the full story on Eri’s past. Even if he knows Shizuo probably would have thought better of saying that if they did, or at least feel horrible after the words came out, Mirio can’t help but feel defensive. “If you hurt Eri right now, even for acupuncture, I really wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Tamaki puts a hand on Mirio’s shoulder, shaking his head a little to scold him, and it’s a little deserved. But then, the biggest Preschool Crier of them all crouches down in front of Eri’s desk, and pulls one of her hands away with the palm facing up, so he can show her a new magic trick. “Eri, can I show you something that’ll help?”

Eri looks up, because she’s always been just a little fascinated by Tamaki, even if they were both too shy to really connect before. The more time Mirio spends around Shinsou, he can definitely see why.

“If you write ‘Mom’ on your hand, like this,” Tamaki says, writing on his own palm with a finger before he presses his hands together. “Then put your hands together, you can make a ‘Mom Call.’ Every mom can feel when their child makes a ‘Mom Call,’ and if you concentrate really hard, you can feel your mom answering it.”

“Tamaki, that’s really lame,” Neji pouts, probably a little upset that Eri wasn’t clinging to her like a surrogate mother. But Tamaki takes it to heart, like he does with almost every jab that Neji makes at him, and disconnects his Mom Call to lay his head on Eri’s desk, hiding his face.

But Tamaki looks up when Mirio taps his shoulder, and looks a little surprised to see Eri pressing her hands together for her own Mom Call, still sniffling with her eyebrows pinched tight in concentration.

They definitely needed to help her out. “Signal boost!” Mirio calls, before he claps his hands together, and the rest of 3-A quickly follows suit. Tomoe starts humming like a monk, and the sound picks up and carries as more and more hero students start humming along with it, Shizuo’s distinctive rasp being the loudest.

Even Neji starts humming, even though it comes out more like she’s powering up for an ultimate combo move.

Eri’s eyes open wide, staring at her hands as she pulls them away and ends the Mom Call. Tamaki smiles at her, definitely still a little embarrassed by how big his small gesture had gotten with everyone’s help, before he asks, “Did your mom pick up?”

Eri nodded, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. But then she noticed that she had quite a bit more attention than she usually did, with every single student staring at her, and she shrank in on herself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Eri!” Mirio reassured. “It’s a hero’s duty to help boost Mom Calls to make sure they go through! Even during class! Right, Aizawa-sensei?”

He’s pretty sure if this wasn’t for Eri’s benefit, Aizawa-sensei would have tripled everyone’s page count for the midterm essay, and not tell them until the day before it was due. But this is Eri, who probably needs a little reassurance that she isn’t in trouble for interrupting class. “It’s a very sacred duty,” Aizawa deadpans, nodding at Eri, and turning back to his lecture notes after she nods back.

Mirio expects Eri to get back to her notes, while he tries to get back to making his own, ignoring that little tug of disappointment when he realizes that the Pokemon plans he had been looking forward to today should probably be put off so Eri could make up for lost time with Shinsou. But before he can get too morose about it, he feels her tug on the sleeve of his uniform, looking up at him nervously. “Can I make Mirio calls too?”

Mirio might look like a tough guy, but no one could stand that kind of ‘heart squeeze’ moment, finding out that Eri might have been missing him as much as he had been missing her. “Only if I get to make Eri calls too!”

He holds out his hand to shake on the deal, both of them looking as serious as they possibly can before he crosses his eyes and makes her giggle.

It might be a little selfish of him, but he’s definitely going to make an Eri call after school, and hope that Shinsou picks up too.

*

“You’re doing very good, Eri,” Momo says, smiling at her after she finishes up her science quiz about the different parts of leaves. Ocha smiles at her too and gives her a head pat before she lets Eri pick another sticker to put on her work, so Eri can look back and know she got all of the questions right.

Eri is trying to do a really good job at school, so she won’t think about how much she misses Twenny. The heroes help her a lot, because they’re really nice to her today. Momo talked to her a lot during homeroom, and Other Yama taught her a pretty song, and Mirio helped her take good notes for Twenny. She doesn’t get to see a lot of heroes today, because she gets to stay with Zawa all day, but that kind of makes her miss Twenny even more.

Zawa did her horn trick, but he didn’t really do it right. She still feels kind of stuffy, but she doesn’t want to tell Zawa. She really hates that she had to let him do the horn trick at all, but he was really worried after she ran away from him, and she knew that it was really bad that she did that.

Eri looks at Momo, and kicks her legs out under the desk. She’s not supposed to do that, but Momo doesn’t get mad at her, because Momo is a really nice person. Momo just smiles at her, because she’s a really good hero, so Eri knows it’s okay to ask her a question that might be kind of weird. “Momo, are people veins supposed to look like leaf veins?”

Momo’s lips look weird, like she’s making them get smaller, before she smiles at Eri even more. “That’s a very good question. We should go through our scientific method to figure it out.”

Eri knows she smiles right when she hears that, because her cheeks feel a little sore and twitchy. She really likes when Momo plays the Science Method game, because it’s what scientists do all the time, and Eri is getting really good at it. “My research book said plant veins carry water around, and Zawa said people need to drink water. But if people need to drink water, they gotta have some way to carry it around too, so maybe that’s what people veins are supposed to do.”

Ocha makes a weird noise, and tries to stop it by putting her hand around her mouth and stomping her feet. “Eri, you’re such a cute little scientist!” Ocha says when she calms down, hugging Eri really tight even though it’s kinda hard for her to reach around Eri’s desk.

Momo looks like she’s going to laugh at Ocha, but she just gives Eri a You Got It Right smile. “That’s a very good observation. We have our research, our real-world observation, and our hypothesis is that they are similar, so now we need to test our hypothesis.”

Eri nods, and flips through her science book. “I can test it by looking at plant veins and people veins, and see if they look different.” Eri misses the picture the first time, but Ocha helps her by pointing out the leaf picture after she flipped past it.

Eri frowns, because a lot of the pictures in her science book were black and white, and that didn’t really help her with her experiment.

“I don’t know what color they are, but leaf veins are really straight and neat. People veins are bunchy and crooked.” Twenny’s veins were really bunchy, and they moved a lot before He took them away, just like he took Twenny’s skin. He made sure Eri looked at it, even though Twenny was telling her not to.

Ocha and Momo don’t say anything for a little bit, and Eri knows she said something weird again. She doesn’t like doing that, it makes her sad when the heroes think she’s weird. Maybe she shouldn’t know what people veins look like. Maybe that’s why Twenny didn’t want her to see his.

“Let’s see if I can find some pictures in color,” Momo says, pulling out her phone to search for stuff. Momo usually likes to show her stuff in person instead, but maybe since Eri said something weird, she doesn’t want to have to see her after school to show her plant veins. 

“I think my veins are kind of straight!” Ocha says, putting her hand on the desk in front of Eri, and poking at the blue lines on her hand where her veins are. “Maybe I’m secretly a flower person! What kind of flower do you think I’d be, Eri?”

Eri wonders if the Viney Lady in the other English class makes flowers in her hair in the spring, and that makes her giggle thinking of Ocha with viney hair. She would look really weird. “I think you’d have a really big, really pretty flower, Ocha! A really big pink one!”

Ocha makes that scream kinda noise again and hugs her really tight. “Eri, you’re so sweet! I love that about you!”

Momo shows Eri her phone, and it has a lot of pictures of leaves on it. Some of the veins are white, and sometimes they’re green or purple, but they’re always the same color. They’re not blue and red and tiny white ones, like people veins are. “People veins are different colors, so they’re not the same,” Eri says, forgetting that she shouldn’t say weird things like that because the heroes don’t like it. “But they do the same thing, so that’s my conclusion!”

Momo smiles at her, even though Eri knows she messed up and didn’t finish the game right. “That is correct. Veins exist in plants, people, and animals to carry around nutrients and water, but because people and plants are so different, their veins have different shapes and colors. I have an idea for a project to demonstrate how they work, using food dye and flowers.”

Eri loves doing projects with Momo. They’re always super fun, and she learns a lot from them. “Can we do it after school, at my dorm? Twenny won’t be as scared of you if we’re doing stuff together! Sometimes he even gets really talk-y, but that might be because he was sick.”

Twenny was sick now, but it was different. Yama and Zawa tried to hide it from her, but even the heroes knew about it, because they were talking about it this morning.

He wasn’t acting sick like he did when he got really sick at the compound. He didn’t really seem sick at all, even if he was acting more scared than he always is, and he had the Mondays on Monday. But Eri knew that something was wrong even before the heroes started talking about Twenny being sick, because Twenny was acting even weirder than when he was just scared.

Maybe if Momo came to the dorm with them, she could stop Zawa from taking Twenny away, just like Ocha stopped Twenny from doing the horn trick. Zawa might want to keep Eri from getting sick, just like He did, but Eri really doesn’t want to make Twenny sad again. She doesn’t want to see him cry now that they got rescued by the heroes.

She wants to make Twenny happy, like she gets to be now. She doesn’t want him to be sad or scared or hurt anymore. She really wants to make him so happy that he gets full of overwhelming happiness, like Mirio said he wants for Eri.

Eri’s head feels kind of tingly around her horn, and she tries to see if her hair is tickling her, but it’s not. Her horn just grew again, and now it was even bigger than too big, and it was getting those ridgy things that were kind of sharp.

Twenny told her that if she gets hurt, her horn grows, but she still wasn’t hurt at all. Maybe Twenny was wrong about that, but that wouldn’t make sense, because Twenny was never wrong, except about other people.

Zawa puts his hand on Eri’s head, and he must have been doing his really sneaky quiet walk because she didn’t even know he was there. “Are you alright, Eri?”

Eri nods, putting her hands in her lap. She wants her horn to stop growing, because it’s scaring Zawa, and it looks like it’s scaring Momo too. Her horn scares a lot of heroes, because it’s so bad.

“We were learning about veins,” Momo says, and she has her serious Vice President face on when she looks up at Zawa, instead of her Eri Did A Great Job smile face. “Whether plant veins and human ones looked similar. And if Shinsou would like to do a project with us.”

Zawa nods at her, like Momo was talking with her hands like Yama does sometimes, and pats Eri’s head. He leaves his hand there for a while before he walks back to his desk, and he seems kinda sad, but Zawa kinda seemed sad all day today.

Maybe Zawa didn’t like that Twenny and Yama stayed home today, because he missed them. Eri really hopes that Zawa missed Twenny, because maybe he wouldn’t take Twenny away then. Eri doesn’t know where Zawa would even take him to, because the dorms all have people already living there, and Zawa promised that he wouldn’t take Twenny to the bad place, because he’s a hero.

When school is finally over, Eri has a whole lot of stickers on her workbook, and she’s really happy to go back to the dorm so Twenny can do her horn trick. She won’t even be bad or whiney about it, because if she’s really good, then maybe Zawa will let Twenny stay so he can do the horn trick all the time.

But Zawa is walking really slow, even when Eri tries to walk faster than him. Eri can’t really walk a whole lot faster, because she has to hold Zawa’s hand so it doesn’t turn into icicles, and Zawa should probably wear some cute cat mittens like Eri has so they don’t.

Eri has to try really hard to be good when Zawa stops outside their adult dorm, but she’s really close to getting to see Twenny again, and she really doesn’t want to stop, even if it’s to talk to Zawa.

“Eri,” Zawa says in a kind of weird voice, and he bends down really far so he’s kinda short like she is. Twenny does that a lot when he talks about serious stuff, but Zawa almost never talks about serious stuff with her anymore. “When you were talking about people veins, were you talking about Shinsou?”

Eri was right about knowing what people veins look like. Zawa sounds kind of mad that she does. She nods, because she doesn’t want to say something else that’s weird and bad, and make Zawa more upset about it.

“It’s okay,” Zawa says, and he still doesn’t sound like he’s supposed to, but he hugs her and that makes her feel a little less scared that he’s mad, because mad people don’t hug. “I’m sorry that you had to see that.”

Eri hugs Zawa back really tight, even though it’s kind of hard to because he’s a lot bigger than her. But he’s really sad that she saw Twenny’s hand get taken away, and that’s all her quirk’s fault.

Her quirk wasn’t working, no matter what He did, and He was really getting mad about it. He told Hari to get Twenny, and Eri tried really hard to make her quirk work, because she was really scared that he was going to hurt Twenny, or even make her make him go away, just like He said she did to people before her mom got tired of it.

Twenny looked like he really wanted to help Eri stop crying when he got there, but he wasn’t allowed to when people were watching, and He told him to hold out his hand. Then He took off his glove and held Twenny’s arm, and started taking Twenny’s hand away.

Twenny tried to stop him, and he was crying and screaming a lot. Twenny was telling Eri not to look, and He was telling her to look at what she was doing to Twenny. It made the bad feeling inside Eri get so big that her quirk hurt the most it ever had.

Eri doesn’t remember what happened after that, but Twenny was a weird kind of away for a long time. Sometimes, when he’s away, he still moves around and does stuff, but he doesn’t do a lot, and he doesn’t talk. It was really lonely, but then Twenny came back, and hugged her really tight.

Zawa hugs her really tight again, before he looks at her, and he looks really serious again. “Was it Shinsou’s hand?”

Eri nods, and she’s glad that Zawa already kind of knew that, so she doesn’t have to tell him what happened. She doesn’t want Zawa to know that Twenny got so hurt because of her, but she really wants to ask him a different question. “Zawa, after I fix Mirio, can you take my quirk away?”

Zawa looks at her really sad, and she already knows that he can’t, even if she really wants him to. Other Yama looked at her really sad too, because no one can take bad quirks away. “I know that it’s difficult right now, but your quirk will likely erupt soon. After that, we should have more time before it begins again.”

Eri didn’t want it to ever begin again, and she really hopes that Twenny will help her fix Mirio’s quirk this time, so it’ll be longer before it starts bothering her again. Even if Twenny doesn’t want to, and even if it might make him a little sad, maybe if she knew how sad she was, he would do it for her.

But Eri doesn’t want Twenny to know she’s sad right now, because he might be sad that he didn’t get to go to school, or scared about being sick, so she tries to smile really big when they walk in the door.

Twenny and Yama are folding laundry, even though that’s kind of Eri’s job, but Eri isn’t mad. When she sees Twenny, she remembers how much she missed him all day, and she runs up to hug him really tight so he knows. “Twenny! Are you done with your project? Can you go to school tomorrow?”

Twenny smiles at her kind of sad, and she already knows that he can’t, and she’s a little mad about that, put he pulls her really close so he can look at her face. “I can’t, but I’m working hard on it. Horn trick.”

Eri sighs, even though she didn’t want to be mad about that, because even if Twenny was sick, she had a lot of stories to tell him about school, and she wanted to tell him about them instead of getting all snotty. But she tells him it’s okay, and she feels better after that, and she feels like a lot more snot came out because Zawa didn’t make her horn do a thunky sound.

Even after Eri runs out of stories to tell him, and even when Yama asks if she wants to help him fold the socks, she doesn’t let go of Twenny even a little bit.

Even if Twenny got her the most, worst, grossest sick in the whole wide world, she doesn’t want to be away from him ever, ever, ever, ever, ever again.

*

Hizashi tried to pull him out of the office several times, but Aizawa had work to do.

And several good reasons to do it.

He had gotten halfway through the Slovenian database when one of his informants finally got back to him, and he couldn’t help the rising apprehension when he saw which one it was. Shiori was a valuable asset to have, and she hadn’t failed him yet, but she always exacted a heavier price than most for her services.

He found himself a bit relieved when all she had sent him was the word ‘Analog,’ meaning that she wasn’t able to offer those services anyway without more information.

None of his informants could do anything with what little they had. They knew that the Nomu Organization used numbers as brands, that their members were scarred in unique ways, and they had a picture of the man who was in charge of it but didn’t even know his name.

And Shinsou wouldn’t give him that.

He can only hope that Naomasa will be able to force Chisaki to slip, for him to admit something meaningful even if he has to make a promise for Chisaki to see Shinsou again. A promise that Aizawa will ensure is empty.

There’s a risk that this will happen again. That Chisaki will continue to play The Commission, and they will continue to fall for it. Aizawa knew that he had plenty of intel to drag it out, he may even know more than Shinsou did. He knew how to contact them for business transactions, how deeply tied they were to the League of Villains, and likely knew a few of their weaknesses that he would have used to keep an edge over them.

In a perfect world, they would be able to get that information from Chisaki, using means that the mobster deserved to suffer. Aizawa wouldn’t mind at all if Mind Slice left Chisaki in a vegetative state or worse, but the use of intrusive mental quirks for interrogation was heavily restricted. Chisaki was an adult who was determined to have the full capacity to make his own decisions, and would be required to give consent, which rendered interrogation quirks almost useless.

Except for cases like Shinsou, a minor legally under the care of The Commission. A minor whose consent could be given by the very same government agency that would request it.

Aizawa needed to close this investigation before it came to that. He needed to make progress, and he needed Shinsou to work with him on that.

But now he couldn’t even be in the same room with Shinsou. Even with Eri clinging onto the teenager, even if he never dropped into that same terror that he had this morning, Aizawa noticed it. Noticed that Shinsou was watching him with apprehension, that he held his breath when Aizawa looked in his direction. It wasn’t clear, but it was there all the same.

Shinsou was terrified that Aizawa would continue to pressure him for information, which only made it easier for Aizawa to doubt that he even could. With how fruitless it was proving to be, with how moody and depressed Eri had been, with how it was affecting Shinsou, Aizawa regretted that he had attempted it at all.

Shinsou deserved some peace before it was ripped away again, and if sequestering himself in the office to work every other possible angle gave that to the kid, Aizawa would do it.

But he would probably make much greater progress if a certain loudmouth would stop pestering him. “So, now that the kids are gone for a couple hou-”

“ What? ” Aizawa demanded, swiveling around to face his husband, who had better just be trying to get a rise out of him. It’s working incredibly well, and that’s why he’s not surprised to see Hizashi raise his hands to try to calm him down, wincing as he does.

“They’re playing the Pokemon game with the Big Three, it’s fine,” Hizashi insisted, catching what Aizawa was about to say next. “Togata knows the drill, if Eri’s quirk starts acting up, he’ll call you. He said he’ll keep them close to the dorm, just in case.”

That still wasn’t exactly what Aizawa wanted to hear, but neither was what Hizashi said next.

“So, we might be raising a little mafia princess?”

NC

Mirio might be a big guy, maybe even a tough one, but he’s not the kind of guy to be ashamed of finding something cute, or being open about it. He’s made quite a name for himself at the plushie shop, especially after he found a cat plushie that was so soft it melted in his hands, with giant eyes and a tiny little tongue sticking out of its mouth. He couldn’t hold himself back, nearly brought to tears with how cute it was.

That’s why he’s kind of having a problem with Shinsou right now.

Because Shinsou is kind of adorable.

Tamaki has teased him plenty of times for treating the underclassmen like little kids, but it’s hard not to when they’re just so tiny . And scrawny . And so enthusiastic, like little kids running around a playground with wide eyes full of hope, full of promise. Sometimes he looks at them and wants to ask what they want to be when they grow up, expecting at least one of them to say they want to be a fire truck.

They’re tiny and cute, and maybe he should be a little more used to that after spending so much time with Eri, who is the tiniest and cutest person in the entire world, but he’s not. At first, he thought it was just because Eri is hanging out in Shinsou’s hoodie like the most adorable kangaroo baby ever, but it’s not.

Shinsou is just kind of adorable all on his own.

He doesn’t want to turn his pokemon into candies to evolve them, because it’s mean. He keeps every single one he catches, just to keep them. His eyes got so big when he saw the Grengar, and it kind of made him look like a cat ready to pounce. And he wanted it because it looked like him .

It’s adorable. It’s super adorable.

And it’s kind of sad.

Aizawa-sensei didn’t tell him anything about the case that caused Shinsou to become a ward, but Mirio knows it’s not related to the 8 Precepts of Death. So, like anyone would, Mirio tried to do his own research to find out, and it didn’t take long for him to find some answers.

Just by googling Shinsou’s name, he found the missing child fliers, and the newspaper articles. Shinsou went missing when he was 4 years old. A criminal likely kidnapped him, taking him away from a normal childhood at such a young age, and put things into motion for Shinsou to wind up at the 8 Precepts of Death.

It doesn’t really matter if Mirio knows what happened between the kidnapping and the 8 Precepts, because he knows one thing for certain - Shinsou never got to have a normal childhood. He never got to play games like this, he never got to dream of becoming a hero, or a fire truck. He never got to be an adorable kid.

And Mirio is more than happy to help him make up for lost time.

“Choco milk!” Mirio cheers, quietly hoping that this vending machine was still a little buggy, and would drop two milk cartons if the button for it was pressed twice. The tell-tale thud tells him he’s right, and he collects his prizes before turning to Eri. “Do you want to press the button, or am I Eri’s super terrific official button pusher?”

Eri tucks her chin deeper into Shinsou’s hoodie, thinking before she reaches out her hand to make her own selection. Shinsou walks her closer, and has to bend his knees for her to pick a lychee soda, which she takes from him with a little smile, careful not to spill any on Shinsou’s shirt.

“Which one do you want, Shinsou?” Mirio asks, noticing that Shinsou seemed a little surprised at the offer. He also noticed the hesitation, the small frown when he looked at his choices, which might seem like too many to really consider. A little decision too important to make. “There’s chocolate milk, melon milk, banana milk, normal milk, and sodas-”

Shinsou touched the button for chocolate milk, but didn’t press hard enough to actually select it, still seeming a little hesitant when he glanced at Mirio. Mirio just smiled, perfectly comfortable with being a button pusher or decision maker, as long as he had a little input.

Eri looked up at the sky, which was beginning to glow with orange and red hues with the sunset, then turned to look at Shinsou. “Twenny, I like being outside. We get to be outside a lot here.”

Shinsou’s eyes widened again before he reached for his phone, only unlocking the screen before he put it back in his pocket. “We’ve been outside for a while,” he muttered, seeming a little concerned about that.

Mirio had lost track of time on the Pokemon hunt, but they probably should get back to the dorm. Even if Eri seemed to be doing alright, her horn probably wouldn’t just get bigger the next time she felt an ‘overwhelming emotion,’ and Aizawa-sensei would need to be there as soon as it happened. “We can head back to the dorm if you guys want! It is getting a little late.”

Shinsou signed something, and Mirio recognized the ‘one,’ before he started reaching for his phone again. Before Mirio could know what Shinsou wanted to say, Midoriya started calling for him, jogging past Nejire and Tamaki with just a wave.

“Sempai, Shinsou-”

“Izuku!” Eri called, kicking to be released from her little pouch, which Shinsou helped her with after taking the soda out of her hand. As soon as she was down, she ran up to Midoriya, who was already crouched down for her. “Izuku, we caught a LOT of monsters! I named some of them after you on Twenny’s phone! Do you wanna see?”

“Yeah, I really would, Eri!” Midoriya said, pulling away from the hug to pat Eri’s head. “But, I was hoping to talk to Shinsou first, if that’s okay.” Midoriya looked at Shinsou, signing something that caused Shinsou to frown.

“Eri,” Shinsou called, holding Eri’s drink out to her while she stared curiously, likely picking up on Shinsou’s concern. “Midoriya wants to tell me a secret.”

Eri glanced at Mirio, then back at Midoriya before she turned back to Shinsou. “A boy secret?” Shinsou nodded, and Eri sighed before she pouted at Shinsou. “Okay, but I really want you to be friends with Ashi or Momo so you don’t have boy secrets!”

“I’m working on it,” Shinsou promised with a small smile, before Eri turned away and it fell from his face.

Midoriya waited for Eri to run into Nejire’s waiting arms, glancing between Shinsou and Mirio, which made him wonder if he should be included in the ‘boy secret’ after all, even if he was a little too interested to offer to leave. “Shinsou, are you really going to see Chisaki?”

Mirio couldn’t believe what he was hearing, laughing under his breath. “Is this some crazy rumor that’s going around? Jeez, you first years are…”

Shinsou nodded.

Mirio felt the ground tilt from under him.

No. The word was screaming inside of him. He wouldn’t believe it, he wouldn’t believe that. They all fought so hard to save Eri and Shinsou from Chisaki, they gave so much to rescue them from that monster’s shadow. They were safe , there was no way. He lost his quirk to save them. He watched Chisaki absorb Shinsou into his body and did nothing , but he couldn’t do nothing again.

“ For the investi-igation. Eri do-oesn’t know. ”

Mirio knotted his hands into fists, watching the horror spread on Midoriya’s face, more horrified to see Shinsou’s still blank as he typed.

“ It’s fi-ine. ”

“It’s not,” Mirio said, shaking his head. “Shinsou, that’s not ‘fine’ at all!”

Shinsou had been suffering under that dark cloud all day, while Mirio never knew about it. Never suspected it. Shinsou had probably been putting on a brave face for Eri’s sake, but even Mirio had been fooled by it. Shinsou was probably fooling everyone, even Mic-sensei and Aizawa-sensei.

“Isn’t there something that Aizawa-sensei can do?” Midoriya asks, pleading for Shinsou to tell him that this didn’t have to happen. “Kacchan was wrong, wasn’t he? Aizawa-sensei wouldn’t let that happen!”

“I won’t,” Mirio vows, even if he knows it’s fruitless. There’s nothing he can do, there’s nothing that he can do now, but he can’t let this happen. He can’t let Shinsou suffer again for someone else’s sake. “I won’t let that happen!”

“ I wa-ant to. It’s fi-ine. ” Shinsou is holding his phone too tightly, still not meeting their eyes. Mirio knows he’s lying, knows that the brave face is beginning to crack. “ I wa-ant to see Chi-isaki. ”

“Mirio!” Tamaki yelled, and Mirio looked.

Eri.

*

Hizashi shouldn’t have let this happen.

“Eri, it’s okay,” Togata reassures again, gently trying to move Shinsou’s unconscious body onto his bed from where he had been carrying the teenager on his back. “Shinsou is going to be okay, he just needs to rest for a while.”

Aizawa feels her shaking in his arms, and knows it isn’t solely from the backlash of erasing her quirk. Her forehead was warm against his palm when he checked it, but she wasn’t in that same feverish coma that she had been after the raid on the 8 Precepts. She was awake, alert, and terrified as she watched Shinsou fall forward before he was caught by Togata.

Shinsou was having the reaction that Eri should have, after Aizawa had erased his quirk. It was a split-second decision, noticing the blood on Shinsou’s lip, the strain apparent in the way that he was shaking, his skin too pale, eyes too tight. Shinsou was trying to contain Eri’s quirk when Aizawa wasn’t there, just like Aizawa said he was allowed to. He might have even acted recklessly because Aizawa allowed him to, and he took that as an order.

Recovery Girl wasn’t a quirk specialist. There wasn’t anything that any of them could do now but let Shinsou rest, and hope that he recovered quickly.

Eri tugs on his shirt to be let down, and though her legs are still shaky, she pulls herself onto Shinsou’s bed, hands hovering over his arm but unwilling to touch. He recognizes it immediately, placing a hand on her head to reassure her. “It’s fine. If you want to rest with Shinsou.”

Eri nods her head, laying down and curling herself tightly into his open side, his arm a pillow that he didn’t consciously make for her, but she takes all the same. Her hands fist in Shinsou’s hoodie, and Aizawa knows that there’s little he can do to quiet the sobs that will no doubt come.

He can tell by Togata’s grim stare that he’s needed elsewhere besides.

Togata closes the door after he follows Aizawa out of the room, and waits until they’re in the living room before he speaks. “Shinsou is meeting Chisaki.”

Aizawa sighs, doubting that Shinsou had been the one to tell Togata that. Bakugo had said that no one else knew, but he must have decided not to keep that information to himself. He could only hope that Bakugo had only told Togata for whatever reason, and that this information could stop leaking any further. “It’s related to the investigation, and no one is supposed to know about that.”

“Look,” Hizashi cuts in, likely seeing something concerning on Togata’s face, while Aizawa kept his back turned just so he wouldn’t. “There’s not a lot we can do when it’s coming from The Commission of Wardship Affairs. I really wish there was, but there’s not.”

“Homicide,” Togata says, biting out a bitter and airy laugh. “It’s not really heroic, but Shinsou couldn’t meet with Chisaki if Chisaki was dead.”

Aizawa turns around to face his student, to take in the fact that Togata absolutely means it , and sighs. “Shinsou has the ability to stop this, and he hasn’t. He’s agreed to it.”

“He’s terrified,” Togata says, his own arms shaking, though not out of terror, his eyes too wide, too strained. “He’s supposed to be safe.”

“I know,” Hizashi says, putting a hand on Togata’s shoulder, trying to reassure him even if this situation is beyond him. Beyond any of them. “Shinsou is the only one who can stop it, and he won’t. He wants to do it for Eri.” Togata’s posture stiffens, likely feeling the same small insult that Aizawa had felt. They had already faced Chisaki for Eri’s sake, Shinsou had no reason to do it again, but Aizawa knew that it was deeper than that. “It’s just supposed to be a formal apology from Chisaki. 15 minutes, and then Shinsou gets to leave. And if we can’t stop it from happening, we need to focus on being there for Shinsou after that.”

Togata gritted his teeth, the tension slowly beginning to fall when he turned to the side. “Comforting victims of trauma.” It was becoming Lemillion’s specialty, and though it began in such a bitter way, Aizawa had no doubt that it would serve him well after he regained his quirk. “I’ll try to focus on that, then.”

Hizashi guided Togata out, trying to get him to agree to using the chat to find out what food Shinsou liked to eat, as he hadn’t gotten a straight answer and was insistent on making it Friday night.

Aizawa remained frozen.

There wasn’t a single thing he could do to stop this, and too many of his students were feeling the same bitter hopelessness that he felt. He wished that Hizashi had taken away Shinsou’s phone, but he knows that’s entirely selfish of him.

Too many of his students were beginning to doubt him, because this was one horror that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t erase it, couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t protect anyone from the slow machinations that The Commission had put into place.

Hizashi knew the look in his eye before he had to say anything, leaning his arm against his, carefully turning his expression away to hide the irritation. “I already cancelled my patrol, so if you want to look into Eri’s parents, it’s fine.”

Aizawa nodded, winding an arm around his husband’s back as a small concession, an apology that he didn’t want to speak aloud. He wanted distance, he wanted progress, and he couldn’t find progress with Shinsou’s case. He wanted something to prove that he wasn’t as useless as he felt, and his own patrols weren’t an option for him.

“But! You need to use a sick day and stay home with Shinsou tomorrow,” Hizashi stipulated with a raised finger, and Aizawa fought the urge to draw away from it.

“Hizashi-”

“Nope! You have all that time built up, and Principal Nezu doubled it to prove a point! You need to stay home with the kiddos that you keep bringing home!” Hizashi looked at him and sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Look, I know the Guilty Gus look pretty well by now, but avoiding Shinsou isn’t going to help anything. You need to patch things up before Friday, and before Eri notices, because you know she will. She’s a smart little cookie, and she’s got enough to deal with.”

Aizawa nodded, and though he knew that isolating Shinsou to the dorm tomorrow might offer an opportunity to get information about the Nomu Organization, he knew he wouldn’t take it. If Shinsou wanted to face Chisaki on behalf of his ‘Boss,’ then he already had two reasons too many not to talk.

In the meantime, Aizawa could at least make progress in the investigation into Eri’s birth parents.

NC

Yamada had been making his little patrol for a couple hours now. Between finishing up all the little chores that tended to fall to the wayside, he found himself checking in on the wards every 10 minutes or so to see if there were any changes.

Both were fitfully asleep, though Shinsou’s fever seemed to be breaking little by little. The number that he read off of the thermometer the first time he checked nearly gave him a heart attack, but Shinsou had a history of surviving, and even functioning perfectly well with a temperature that was nearly lethal.

He was heading to check if the little kotatsu-head was finally going to have a normal temperature reading, when he found true relief to hear two voices behind the closed door. That was, until he got close enough to the door to understand what they were saying.

“-hate you! You were supposed to fix Mirio!”

“I know.”

Yamada heard Eri growling under her breath, before her words became sharper. “I hate that you can’t talk right! You’re stupid and I hate you!”

“You’re right.”

Yamada didn’t even think about knocking, ripping open the door in the vain hope that his hearing aids were picking up a television drama rather than a nasty argument between his two wards. But seeing Eri kick Shinsou’s chest, sprawled out over his bed still messy with the evidence of a quieter fit, was all the proof that he needed to know this was really happening.

‘ Emotionally volatile ’ didn’t really come close to describing Eri’s cold glare.

“It’s your fault Twenny doesn’t-” Shinsou cut Eri off with a hand over her mouth, which she screamed against, kicking her legs in a flurry. Shinsou looked like he was in rough shape, sweat still on his brow and wetting his hair from the fever, and he just looked exhausted besides. Not that Yamada could blame him, hearing those angry words from Eri were hard enough, but Shinsou absolutely couldn’t deal with it now.

“Okay, we’re a little mad right now,” Yamada said, trying not to take Eri’s pouty glare to heart when Shinsou pulled his hand away. It had to be hard for a little girl like Eri to process a powerful quirk like hers, and what Chisaki had done to her certainly didn’t make it any easier. “Why don’t we find a way to let that ‘mad’ out in a better way? Like, throwing some pillows around, or ripping up some paper-”

“No!” Eri screamed, turning her face into the bed, kicking her feet again but this time catching Shinsou’s chin on one kick before he caught her ankle and held it down.

‘ Doesn’t want to see. ’ Shinsou signed, looking all the more exhausted when he looked in Yamada’s direction, though his eyes never left the floor. ‘ It’s fine. ’

Eri balled her hands into fists before she rolled over on her back, reeling her legs back to kick Shinsou’s side. “Go back to him! I don’t care if you want to stay with him! You can just go away !”

Yamada could practically see Shinsou’s heart breaking at those words, his lips pressed together too firmly, his eyebrows pinched together in an effort to keep himself together. Yamada couldn’t just sit back and let this happen.

“Eri, don’t say things like that! I know you don’t mean it, kiddo,” Yamada said, crouching by the bed to notice that Eri was shaking a little, her arms wrapped too tightly around the pillow. He knew that she didn’t mean it, and it was probably pretty terrifying to be inside her head right now, with so much anger built up inside her and no good way to deal with it. Other than making Shinsou into a punching bag. “So, you don’t want to make a mess, even if you’re really upset, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, Yamada ,” Eri hissed, and boy, she could hit where it hurt.

But, Yamada could take a few blows from an angry 5 year old a bit better than Shinsou could. “So, we’re going to scream. Alright?”

Eri looked up at him, probably peeved that she was being told what to do when she was already in the foulest mood ever, but that only helped him out when he started to yell, and she quickly joined the duet.

He made sure to keep his quirk out of the mix, but still loud enough to cover up most of Eri’s anger, and when she stopped to catch her breath, it looked like he did a pretty good job. His little bean definitely wasn’t set back to rights, but she looked a little surprised to find that the anger meter had been drained a little bit. “Better?”

Eri nodded, tucking her chin deeper into the pillow, though she still kicked away Shinsou’s hand when he tried to put it down too close to her leg. “S’ stupid.”

“But it works! So, let’s keep-” A knock on the door quickly reminded Yamada that the staff dorm might not be the proper place for these vocal exercises. “Let’s go somewhere that we can really let loose, alright? I know just the place for all the yelling I do when I’m mad!”

When he answered the door with a grumpy Eri in his arms, Midnight looked like she might want to do some yelling of her own. “There had better be a spider in there.”

“Nope! Just some super serious Quirk Grumps going on! Can you do me the biggest favor in the entire world, oh x-rated hero that I love so much?” Yamada pleaded, noticing that Midnight’s glare had barely cooled, and it would probably look a lot more intimidating if she wasn’t wearing rubber duck patterned pajamas. “Can you watch Shinsou for a bit while we head to Gym Gamma?”

If it was for anyone else, Midnight probably wouldn’t have budged, the evidence of a few rough patrols clear in the rings of exhaustion around her eyes. But she sighed, smiling softly at Eri even if Eri refused to look at her. “Don’t take after this loudmouth too much, alright?”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Eri muttered against Yamada’s shoulder, and Midnight’s eyebrows raised, probably shocked to hear a sass like that from someone who hadn’t even entered puberty yet.

“Okay! Let’s get some yelling done while we’re on the way! Three, two one!”

This might not be his favorite duet to perform, but he could stay up all night belting it out anyway, for Eri’s sake.

NC

Yamada stared down at the empty Gym Gamma, barely lit with only the security lights on, and let out another shout to cover up the noise from Eri’s. He knew it wasn’t really necessary at this point, the noise-canceling headphones from his hero costume did a perfectly fine job, as long as she held them over her ears.

But it felt so good to let it out.

He imagined that Overhaul was on the other end of it, that he could have somehow rattled Shinsou free when the fusion took place during the raid. That he had been requested to go to the raid at all, that he could have beaten down at least one of the criminals that had hurt his wards so terribly, had left the scars that they still had to carry.

‘ Homicide. ’ If Yamada had been a part of the raid, if he knew what he did now, he probably would have stepped over that line without a second thought. He knows the limits of his quirk, he knows exactly how it could be used to kill. He would do it without a second-thought if it meant protecting his wards, if it meant that healing came a little quicker for them.

He feels Eri wrapping her arms around his waist, and he moved with one free hand to pop his hearing aids back in, her quiet little sniffles coming into focus as the whine of the devices faded out. “M’ sorry, Yama, I didn’t mean it! I didn’t!”

“I know, little bean!” Yamada reassured, trying to wrap her up in a hug with his arm still trapped to his side. “You just had a pretty rough day, and that can make you say things you don’t mean. That happens with me and Shou all the time, but it’s harder when you’re a little kid, and you don’t have room for all that meanness or mad. We can always come out here and put on a show when that happens.”

Eri kicked her foot, legs still swinging off the walkway through the bars of the railing, before she pulled them out and curled herself up in Yamada’s lap, hiding her face against his chest. Yamada just smiled, wrapping his arms around her.

He’s definitely been missing out on the Eri cuddles, even if he can still be a little jealous that Shouta and Shinsou get ones when Eri isn’t so upset.

“Yama, I don’t wanna have my quirk,” Eri whined, hands making fists in his jacket. “I don’t wanna be mean!”

“I know,” Yamada said, tucking his chin before he stops himself, fighting the impulse to cross another line, to kiss the top of her head to express the way that he feels about her, but he shouldn’t. To act like a father, when he wasn’t. “Quirks can give you a lot of trouble, can’t they? They can make you mean, or they can make you hurt. Or they can hurt people you care about.”

Eri nodded, burrowing herself a little deeper into his jacket, and he hoped that he was reading her wrong.

Eri’s quirk could kill too. And much like his, it developed long before it could be controlled or restrained. If Shouta was right, if their little Eri was Hanabusa Eri, then she already had.

The previous head of the 8 Precepts of Death had one daughter, Hanabusa Kaede. No one had looked too deeply into who the deceased man was before his passing, or who his family members were. But Hanabusa Kaede was in prison for child neglect, for failing to produce her child after social services investigated why she wasn’t enrolled in school.

Shouta texted him after convincing Sansa to let him meet with her. They couldn’t show Hanabusa Kaede a picture of Eri to verify it completely, and she refused to give them a sample of her DNA to prove the relation. All that she would say when asked why she didn’t have her child or know where she was, was that she didn’t have a child. That she gave birth to a monster who killed her boyfriend, and destroyed her life.

Hanabusa Eri’s birth certificate matched the notes from Chisaki’s ‘research’ notes, a 5 year old girl born on December 21st. Hanabusa Kaede’s white hair, the features that were similar were clear from her mugshot. Even if Hanabusa Kaede didn’t want to prove it, Yamada doubted that the relationship wouldn’t be legally established at some point. He’s sure nothing would come of it, that Eri would never be returned to her mother, but he still finds himself worrying.

He hopes that Eri doesn’t remember that, remember Rewinding a person past the point of their existence. He hopes that she never finds out, and never blames herself for having a quirk manifest too early to control it. That she never finds herself torn apart the same way that he was, when he found out that the reason he didn’t have his biological parents in his life was because he had deafened them after he was born.

“You know, I really hated my quirk too,” Yamada says, running a hand through Eri’s hair. “Because my quirk hurt people. I actually hated it so much that I stopped talking for a while, kind of like Shinsou. Because I wasn’t sure if I could be a good person if I had a quirk that could hurt people.”

Eri looks up at him, her big red eyes still wet with tears, and he runs his thumb over her little horn, trying to give her a reassuring smile.

“But quirks that can hurt can also help people. It’s all about how you use them. I could have turned out to be a really nasty villain, but I didn’t, because I wanted to use my quirk to help people. It wasn’t easy to like my quirk, though,” Yamda says, thinking back on all the times he wanted to crush his hearing aids, as though that would take back the damage that had already been done. How often he wondered how different the world would sound without them, if he didn’t have his quirk. What his childhood would have been like if his parents didn’t surrender him to social services. “Sometimes, I wished that I didn’t have a quirk at all.”

Eri’s hand touches his neck, and he feels a proud little smile pulling him out of his morose mood. His inquisitive little scientist learned all about vocal cords from Yaoyorozu after watching The Little Mermaid, when she was curious whether someone’s voice could actually be stolen. He tried to tell her about how vocal cords played into his own quirk after he overheard her telling Shouta about it, but she had just tucked her head against Shouta’s chest, in a mood where she was a bit too shy to talk to the loudmouth she had to live with.

Even if Shinsou had his own Little Mermaid problems, Eri hadn’t been nearly as shy since he came to live with them.

“Yama, your quirk doesn’t make you ugly,” Eri mumbled, and he almost wished that she had been a little more upset by her own words. That this wasn’t something that she honestly thought about herself, that it was still a part of the emotional tailspin that her quirk gave her.

“Eri, you’re not ugly!” Yamada argues, trying to get his little bean to look at him, but when she does, her expression is far too serious. “You’re the cutest little bean in the whole world! Everyone says that, and hundreds of heroes can’t be wrong!”

“I’m cute now,” Eri explains, and he’s only a little relieved to see a flicker of her usual self-confidence, watching her press a hand to her horn. “But when it’s big, it’s so ugly, Yama! And it’s full of snot, and gross! I really don’t like it!”

“I know you’re not a fan of the horn tricks, and I don’t blame you, kiddo. It’s not fun being sniffly and sick,” Yamada says, pitying the miserable little bean who’s had to put up with that for the past few days. “But even if you had a beard like Shou, and warts all over your face, and you had a big green mole right in the middle of your forehead with curly hairs sticking out all over the place, you know what? You’d still be the cutest little bean in the whole world.”

Eri doesn’t look like she believes him at all, putting her hand to her forehead in fear that a mole might already be sprouting there.

“Because you don’t just look like the cutest bean in the world, you are the cutest bean in the world. Because you’re smart, and you’re kind, and the best helper in the whole world. Do you know what me and Shou would do if we didn’t have you to help us pick our plates? We’d eat off the table like animals, Eri! Shou would want to use the kitty cat face plate, but then I’d want to use it too, so he’d just break it because he’s mean to me when you’re not around, and then we’d have no plates! ”

Eri pouts, trying not to giggle, despite all his hard work to get her to. “Zawa’s not mean!”

“Oh yes he is! He’s just not mean when you’re around! He’s so mean to me, Eri. He tells me he’s not hungry, then as soon as I make something, he eats all of my food. He makes me do all the laundry, even if his hero costume gets the dirtiest after his patrols. And when it gets cold, I tell him to make sure to wear socks and mittens, because his hands and feet get cold, but do you know what he does? He doesn’t wear them, just so he can stick his cold toes and hands all over me and make me feel cold!” Yamada pouts, knowing that as soon as the first snowfall came, he’d have a snowball shoved down the back of his shirt. “He bullies me so much.”

“Yama, are you gonna leave him?” Eri asks, red eyes wide with concern. “Zawa acts so bad! He’s really mean to you!”

“No! No way, little bean!” Yamada insists, worried that he might have vented just a little too much, before he realizes that Eri wasn’t just worried about him and Shouta splitting ways over a few cold toes and chores. She might be worried about someone else who had been acting a little ‘mean’ and ‘bad.’ “I love Shouta a lot, a whole lot more than I hate cold toes or not eating my own food. Even if he’s mean, or if he acts bad, I still love him. Because he’s my mean little grump, and most of the time, he’s not mean or bad at all.”

Eri pulls herself closer to his chest, picking at his jacket before she works up the courage to ask, “Does Twenny still like me?”

“I know he does,” Yamada promises, running a hand over Eri’s hair before he holds her close. “Shinsou cares about you a lot, little bean. And I know that he knows you didn’t mean what you said. You two have been together for a long time, and gone through a lot together. I know Shinsou wouldn’t leave just because of a few grumpy words, even if they were pretty grumpy.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Eri insists. “I don’t want him to go back to him, Yama! Don’t let him!”

“Go back to….” Yamada’s heart drops when he realizes who Eri was talking about. The only person she would refuse to name.

She wasn’t supposed to know, because nothing could be more frightening for poor little Eri than knowing that Chisaki was still around, still able to torment them. But for her to not only find out, but to think Shinsou was going to live with Chisaki again. He couldn’t imagine how that felt for poor little Eri, but if his own sickening dread was any indication, it would have been a very ‘overwhelming emotion.’

“Eri,” Yamada says, still unsure how he could make the truth any more pleasant to bear, but he couldn’t lie to her now. If she found out after the fact that she was lied to, it would only be more devastating. “Shinsou will never live with Chisaki again. Chisaki is in prison, and he’ll be there for the rest of his life. He’s never getting out, ever. ”

He wishes he could end it there, with a promise that he knew he could keep. But Eri picked up on things with Shinsou, and if they had been together all day today, she probably would have realized that something was off. And she might pick up on it afterwards. Even if Shinsou wasn’t a wreck, even if they told her it was just a really important school test like they planned to.

“You know how wards get to live with heroes to keep them safe, right?” Yamada asks, and Eri nods. “Shou is your hero, because he can keep you safe if your quirk gives you trouble. And Shinsou is my ward, because I can keep him safe from bad people. And the police are trying to find those bad people, but they need to know more information about them. They want to get that information from Chisaki, and they need Shinsou to meet with Chisaki for a little bit for that to happen. And Shinsou said he wanted to do that.”

Eri shook her head. “He doesn’t want to, Yama! He’s scary and bad, and Twenny gets really scared of him!”

“I know,” Yamada says, holding Eri a little closer. “I think Shinsou might get a little scared when it gets closer, and he might be a little mixed up afterwards, but I think he wants to do this. So he knows that Chisaki can’t hurt him anymore. And to know he can’t hurt you anymore either.”

Eri frowns, and Yamada knows that as soon as she sees Shinsou, she’ll want to convince him not to meet with Chisaki, even if she doesn’t know it’s an option.

“I know you want to protect him from feeling scared or mixed up, Eri,” Yamada says, giving her a half smile. “But Shinsou wants to do this, and we can’t stop him. We just have to be there to support him along the way. And one of my favorite ways of doing that is making food, but Shinsou hasn’t told me what he likes to eat! I asked him a million gazillion times, and he still hasn’t told me!”

“He hasn’t told me either,” Eri says with a little frown. “But I can ask him! I wanna know too! And…” Eri trails off, then clasps her hands in front of her chest, staring at them. “I wanna ask him with my hands. And tell him sorry. ‘Cause it’s not stupid that he talks with his hands! His hands always look really pretty, and I know it’s not your fault that he does it!”

“I know, sweetheart,” Yamada reassures, feeling his heart melt at such a grand gesture from his little bean, one that she came up with all on her own. “I think Shinsou would really appreciate that. So, this one means ‘Sorry,’ and this one is ‘I’m really, super duper sorry.’”

Eri starts copying the more formal sorry without hesitation, and he helps guide her hands through the correct motions.

And he hopes that the apology will be enough to heal those angry words that he knows hurt Shinsou so much.

NC

The morning came, and Aizawa felt the dread nearly overwhelm him, enough to make an embarrassing nuisance of himself while he watched his husband get ready for the day.

“It’s too soon for them to be separated for that long,” Aizawa says, fully aware of how hypocritical he’s being. “Eri doesn’t have to go to school-“

“Shou,” Hizashi interrupts sharply, his head falling back and nearly ruining his hair before the gel dried. “You need to patch things up with Shinsou, and I know if Eri stayed home, you’d spend all your time with her to avoid talking to Shinsou. And if that means that I have to take on the absolutely grueling task of spending all day with my little bean, I guess I’ll just have to ‘ fight on ’.”

Aizawa was allowed to be jealous, especially with that smug grin egging him on. “She won’t be happy to be away from him for that long.”

“I know,” Hizashi said, his grin softening a bit before he clapped a hand on Aizawa’s shoulder. “But she doesn’t know how to get into the ventilation system when she’s not happy.”

Aizawa quickly pulled out his phone to resolve that situation before it could come to fruition. Though he was a bit more equipped to pull Shinsou out of the vents with the capture scarf if necessary, he didn’t want to resort to something so forceful.

Especially when today would be miserable enough for them already.

*

Aizawa turns the phone over in his hand, watching the screen unlock before he turns it over again, staring at the closed door of the office afterwards.

He knows it’s wrong, he doesn’t need Hizashi’s eventual scolding to remind him of that. He’s the one who saw firsthand how little Eri and Shinsou had, that all their worldly possessions didn’t fill a single box at the evidence locker. Beyond that, he knows that Shinsou treasures this phone, and it’s clear in the way he treats it.

But he can’t let his students know about the meeting with Chisaki. He can’t face another student boiling with well-deserved rage and betrayal, facing the reality that heroes are useless as often as they’re saviors. Facing the fact that despite everything that Aizawa has done, it’s been for nothing . That even after the raid, Shinsou will still be under Chisaki’s thumb tomorrow.

The phone vibrates with another chat notification, and Aizawa unlocks the screen again before he turns it back over.

He could look. He’s highly tempted to. Bakugo doesn’t know what the investigation is looking for, that any little piece of information about the Nomu Organization could prove to be instrumental. Something as small as Shinsou mentioning a restaurant or town that he’s visited could be a lead that breaks the case.

But he wouldn’t do this to a student. He’s invaded Shinsou’s privacy far beyond what he’s comfortable with already, though that was hardly his choice. He needed to know what Naomasa found, without any doubt that Naomasa was withholding anything. And with how fruitless the keylogger has proven to be, he doesn’t exactly have high hopes for these chats that Shinsou has been using.

But he needs to know. To use any tool that’s available to him. He’s done far worse already, and looking through a teenager’s phone is hardly as traumatizing as showing him the sketch of someone he’s sure has abused him.

And he’s curious. He still knows nothing about the teenager that’s been living with him, beyond the simplest things that he’s offered in that ‘Like’ game. He likes coffee, cats, and learning. It’s not enough to know anything about Shinsou, and he knows for a fact that his students know him better than that.

He can see immediately that Shinsou isn’t as active as he seemed to be on these chats. Several have old unread messages, some haven’t been fully set up. The most active one seems to be the Class 1-A chat, and that’s the one he opens first.

It crashes immediately, stalling to load all of the unread messages before it shuts down, but Aizawa ignores the irrational thought that this might be a sign not to continue. He relaunches the app, and finds his students are interested to know why Shinsou is absent again today, and why he’s absent as well.

Several are concerned, especially after he didn’t take a single day off to recover from USJ, and they note that immediately. But others correctly assume that he’s watching Shinsou today, and incorrectly assume that Shinsou must actually be sick. They had apparently been told about the ‘Project’ that Shinsou had with Hizashi, but now believe that was a cover story for Eri’s sake.

Aizawa scrolls up, reading messages about their study plans, their anxieties building towards the midterms, before he finds the messages that Shinsou sent.

Iida. Aizawa closes his eyes and lets his head fall against the back of the chair. They hadn’t told Shinsou that his placement here was temporary for a reason , and Iida had given Shinsou yet another reason not to cooperate with the investigation. At this point, the investigation was all but over, knowing that Shinsou would fight tooth and nail to keep from being removed from Eri.

But Aizawa continued reading, catching on the concern that his students clearly had at the time. Pleading for Shinsou to keep responding, as though they were worried that he was a suicide risk.

‘ They want information. I can’t give it to them...if I’m not around, take care of Eri. Don’t talk about me after that. ’

That absolutely sounded like Shinsou was at risk, and he feels a swell of pride that his students reacted somewhat appropriately, even without training. But he knows that Shinsou wasn’t at risk at the time, he was in a vent. And when he reads it again, his eyes catch on Shinsou’s words. ‘ I can’t give it to them. ’

He knew that Shinsou was trained not to give that information away. Even if he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it, he knew that training likely included torture. That his hands curled around the scars on his arms every time he was pressed too much because a scar was likely a reminder not to speak, one or many of them. Or all of them.

He scrolls up to distract himself from that thought, from the lingering desire to close this application and forget everything he’s seen so far, before he sees Chisaki’s name.

‘ Chisaki made her do it. ’

He’s noticed it. Eri has done that in front of him. She couldn’t say ‘Nemuri’ once and she clapped her hands, too close to her face, and he noticed the flinch. He said nothing. He did nothing but watch while an echo of Chisaki took control of Eri again.

He has another reason to pour over these chats now.

‘ Floaty, you owe me 2 questions. ’

It seems that the ‘Like’ game wasn’t the only way Shinsou traded for information. He counted questions that he answered, to exchange for more information. He doesn’t know whether to be horrified that Shinsou seemed to play games when he wanted to interact with people, likely lacking enough socialization to know how to do so without some sort of structure, or horrified by his own thoughts. How quickly he started wondering how he could use this ‘Question Game’ into an interrogation tactic, before he realized how damaging that would be.

He’s learning more about Shinsou, but much like the keylogger, he doesn’t like what he finds.

He finds an explanation for Ashido rubbing her hands together and glaring at him during homeroom yesterday, but when he sees ‘Pure Boiii’s question, he can’t fault her for it.

‘ What name sign did you make for Aizawa-sensei? Did he like it?’ ‘Skip.’

He notes every little detail that Shinsou provides about Eri’s habits, and doesn’t miss that ‘Genesis,’ likely Yaoyorozu’s username, knows that Shinsou was unsettled to be away from Eri yesterday. He also doesn’t miss how casually his class brushes off Shinsou’s death threats should they tell Eri that he’s sick.

He still doesn’t know how many of them have accepted Shinsou as a ward, and whether they want to protect and comfort him as a part of a duty that a hero holds or whether they see him as an extension of Eri. But it’s clear that they care about Shinsou deeply, in a way that makes him proud to see.

‘ Rikiya was nice. He was my friend. ’

Rikiya was a monster . He had been one of the torturers, all of the 8 Expendables were. They took turns beating Shinsou with their quirks, with their fists, while Shinsou was still struggling to stand after the bleach torture. He knows that wasn’t the only time, he knows that Shinsou had endured more violence than he admitted to in that statement he gave about the 8 Precepts, because the bleach torture wasn’t in it. Neither was the beating. Shinsou only wrote about what happened to Eri, how Eri wasn’t fed enough, how Eri was tortured.

Aizawa had never considered the possibility that Shinsou could see one of the 8 Expendables as a friend. That he would be so used to violence to see any small absence of it as a gift, and he’s not even sure if Rikiya gave him that. He doesn’t know why Shinsou considered him a friend, but he knows that he wasn’t. The more he considers the possible explanations, the more it unsettles him.

‘ Even Rappa could be flipped when he overextended himself. ’

He finds himself mirroring the same reaction that his students had. He’s never considered that Shinsou had fought the 8 Expendables.

He knows with the casual way that Shinsou says that, that it wasn’t an escape attempt. And it wasn’t a single occurrence either. Shinsou, a half-starved teenager with years of training apparent in the way that he carried himself, had been pitted against those formidable criminals time and time again. They were older than him, they were well fed and healthy. He knows from experience that some of the worst fights are with strength-enhanced foes, as someone who also lacks a physically enhancing quirk. And his quirk cancels those quirks.

Shinsou faced them, and won. Not often, but the fact that he did at all is almost too surreal to believe.

‘ Zawa can mean ‘murmur.’ ’ ‘ ‘Useful.’

Shinsou put a lot of effort into his name sign.

Aizawa knew it from the first time he saw it. He saw how fluid the sign was, knew immediately that Shinsou had practiced it several times. He didn’t realize how much effort he put into it, that he enlisted the help of his students. Bargained for information. That Shinsou was trying to find information about him to fit his name sign.

That the ‘Like’ game was another attempt to do that.

Aizawa closes the app, and turns the phone over on his desk. They’ve been playing games instead of talking, they’re both interested to know about each other, and he should have realized that from the start.

It was logical that Shinsou didn’t know how to connect with people without a structure to guide the conversation, rules made clear and goals made more attainable. Whatever socialization he had at the Nomu Organization, it was lacking, and Shinsou relied on what little he remembered from his life before that.

Shinsou was a child, and he knew how to play games.

But Aizawa wasn’t a child, and he should teach Shinsou how to interact with people honestly. Even if they started with the games and moved outwards, now that he knew that Shinsou wanted to know more about him, he owed it to Shinsou to have an honest conversation with him. To answer Shinsou’s questions, even if his own weren’t answered. He would make it clear to Shinsou that this wasn’t an interrogation tactic. This was beyond the investigation entirely.

He and Shinsou lived together, and they shouldn’t be strangers to each other. This awkward separation was both of their faults, but Aizawa could break it down, little by little. Now that he knew that there was more than fear on the other side, there was a flicker of interest. Whether Shinsou still wanted to know more about Aizawa now, after the line of questioning, after that betrayal, he doesn’t know. But he could ask.

Before Aizawa stands to do so, he hears the chirp from his phone, and pulls up the keylogger.

And he realizes that they needed to have another conversation entirely.

*

Shouta wasn’t kidding about Eri being unhappy to be away from Shinsou.

Yamada watched Eri pick at her lunch, her little frown deepening every time she looked up at the door, hoping that Shinsou would come through it. Hoping that she could point out all the little side dishes she organized, or the rice balls that she decorated. Hoping to watch him eat any part of it that he would, to scold him when he didn’t eat enough of it.

It was a little easier to distract her during class, but he was running out of homework and quizzes that needed grading. He’d likely need to steal some from Nemuri or Ectoplasm at this rate, to keep her occupied until his free period where they could spend some quality time going over JSL or English, or both. Whichever his little bean felt like learning today.

He looks over at the little ‘confidential meeting’ going on between Jirou and Midnight in the corner, catching another cold look from Jirou when she notices. He’s still not sure why that little listener has always seemed to hold a grudge against him, even before the exam where he faced off against her and Koda, but he can take a hint. Especially when it didn’t seem to affect her studies, with her English scores being one of the highest ones in his class.

Eri taps her chopsticks against the side of the bento box, as though she’s tempted to give up on finishing her lunch with the weight of missing Shinsou weighing so heavily on her, and he gives in. “Hey Eri, do you know what Shinsou likes to eat? I’m still trying to figure out what his favorite food is, but he still won’t tell me! I think I need a little inside scoop from my favorite little listener.”

Eri perks up at the mention of Shinsou’s name, but the pout returns quick enough, her head tilting to the side. “He doesn’t like oatmeal, but I don’t know if he likes chicken. He didn’t tell me what he likes either.”

“Why don’t you play that question game with him?” Jirou asks, and Yamada is surprised to see her looking in his direction, even if that little glare returns when she sees him looking back. “Don’t you think it’s a little irresponsible to live with someone when you don’t even know that much about them?”

“Maybe! That’s why I’m trying to figure it out, listener!” Yamada replies, just a little too jovially to cover up the sting from Jirou’s words. He knows that he should know more about Shinsou. Shinsou trusts him more than anyone else other than Eri, and he has a responsibility to know more about Shinsou in turn. He’s his caretaker , and it’s pretty hard to call himself that when he can’t even plan a well-deserved comfort meal for him. “What’s the deal-io with the question game? I’ve never heard about it!”

Jirou starts tugging at the end of her aux-lobes, glancing away, and he knows that she’s about to lie to him. But he hopes that enough of the truth still slips out. “When he chats with other people, he does this thing where he only answers questions if he has one he wants answered. So it’s an even exchange.” The cold look returns, and he imagines that she was trying to hide the existence of the group chat that he and Aizawa are already incredibly aware of. “Seriously, you’re supposed to be his caretaker and everything, and you don’t know about that?”

“I didn’t know either,” Eri mutters, bringing panic over Jirou’s features.

“Eri, I didn’t mean it like that-”

The door to the staff room flies open, Bakugo’s usual entrance cutting off Jirou’s attempts to console Eri. Kirishima is right behind him, smiling apologetically while he hovers behind Bakugo, and looks like he wants to pull him back out of the room when Bakugo sets his sights on Yamada. “Oi, I need to talk to Shitsou, so I’m going to your place after school.”

Jirou sighs in frustration, running a hand over her face. “Can you seriously just drop it? You’re not gonna-”

“I’m gonna fucking stop it, so don’t tell me shit!” Bakugo snarls, tucking his hands into his pockets when he looks at Yamada again. “Aizawa-sensei told me to talk to Shitsou, and he’s not answering the fucking chat, so I’m gonna do this shit face-to-face. Alright?”

Yamada takes a moment to take in how bloodshot Bakugo’s eyes are, the rings of exhaustion around them, and another to take a very deep breath. This was not just midterm nerves, and he should have known better. Shouta should have known better. “So! Before we do that, let’s have a chat, alright? Let’s step out to….”

Bakugo jerks his chin towards the window, likely catching the hesitation while Yamada fumbles to find a private place to have this conversation, in a staff room that is becoming less and less private. “Aizawa-sensei jumped out that fucking window last time.”

“He...does that,” Yamada said, still trying to find any other option, but coming up with none. “Okay! Defenestration it is! Hang tight here, little listener, and I’ll be right back.”

He shot a look at Midnight, who nodded, already read into the little flight risk that Eri could become if left to her own devices, and led Bakugo to the window in question.

He and Shouta needed to have a chat, about a lot of things, and though the window hopping was one of them, it certainly wouldn’t be the first order of business.

The first order of business would be why on Earth Shouta would put that pressure on Bakugo.

*

Aizawa watches Shinsou pick at his lunch, and tries to turn the situation over in his head.

An honest conversation. He owed that to Shinsou, he owed it to the child sitting in front of him that didn’t know to learn more about the person that he had to live with. He should have offered it sooner, but Hizashi was right. He avoided it, and it wasn’t all due to avoiding distressing Shinsou.

It was made so apparent with the shirt that Shinsou was wearing, the Lemillion shirt that Hizashi had made during his short-lived hobby of crafting hero merch. Aizawa found himself staring at the shirt to avoid the sight of those scars, but in doing so, he realized the reason he had retreated so readily from Shinsou.

Lemillion was a hero that Shinsou recognized, the one that he saw during the raid. Eraserhead wasn’t, ‘Zawa Hero’ was a new and short lived development, and deservedly so.

But Eraserhead could have been the first hero that Shinsou saw, if he had kept that case on his docket.

He knows better than to turn situations like these over and over, to play the ‘what if’ game. He’s lectured on the subject enough times to hear his own words echoing back at him, but he still wonders. If he had followed Shinsou from the bookstore, would Shinsou have spoken to him about his situation? Would he have done it for Eri’s sake? Would they have rescued Eri sooner, the raid taking fewer casualties?

What difference could a month have made for both of the wards, for Togata? For Sir Nighteye?

Would Shinsou have trusted him more after that raid, after that rescue? Would the investigation into the Nomu Organization been easier to close if he had that trust, if he had proven himself that much?

Would Shinsou have fought him as soon as he spotted him, to return to the 8 Precepts and return to Eri?

‘ The erasure of quirks is an attractive- ’

Aizawa stops that line of thought as soon as it comes, as soon as he does the math. If he had slipped up, if he had been caught off guard for even a second , things would have turned into a far different ruin. One that he doesn’t want to think about, doesn’t want to consider being under that blindfold and under that yakuza bastard’s scrutiny any longer than he was during the raid. If he took that case, he would have worked it alone, but he doubts that Shinsou was ever alone when he was allowed outside. And he doubts that Chisaki’s interest in his quirk would have been a secret.

He wants to know more about Shinsou as he is now, he wants to have an honest conversation with him. And Shinsou is making an effort to be honest in a way he didn’t expect to see.

He’s using his right hand.

He doesn’t actually try to eat any of the food in front of him, and Aizawa doubts that he could if he tried. His hand shakes violently, and it seems to be an effort just to hold his chopsticks in place, though they slip too. Aizawa doesn’t know if he should mention it, or if he should just heat up more steamed buns so that Shinsou can eat something that doesn’t require as much hand coordination.

He doesn’t know if this is a game, but he’s willing to play a game with Shinsou at first, as long as it’s an honest one. Disguising an honest conversation.

“I want to play the question game with you,” Aizawa says, Shinsou’s violet eyes locking on his for just a moment before he glances to the side. A promising tell. “You ask me a question, and after I answer it, I’ll ask you one. It won’t be about the investigation. Just to get to know each other.”

He fights the urge to lean his head forward, to tuck his chin into his scarf or have his hair fall to cover his expression, because he’s already taken precautions to stop either of those things from happening. His scarf is in the office, his hair is tied back. It never fails to make him feel vulnerable, but they can both be vulnerable now.

Shinsou stares at him, head tilting slightly though his expression remains blank. He places his chopsticks down, the act of pretending to eat now forgotten, though he doesn’t seem to know how to start the game. He runs a hand over the back of his neck before he stiffens and pulls it back, his hands resting in front of him before he begins to sign.

‘ People you’re looking for. Not innocent. ’

Aizawa feels his mouth twitch into a frown, realizing who Shinsou is referring to. Realizing that he can still avoid naming the organization, before he remembers that this conversation isn’t about the investigation at all. He should make an effort to get to know Shinsou.

But there’s another conversation that they need to have, and this might be the way to do it.

“You were a part of that organization when you were four years old, correct?” Shinsou doesn’t nod, doesn’t answer at all, but Aizawa doesn’t want to consider that there might have been another criminal that had taken Shinsou after his mother ‘gave him away.’ That there might be more owners than there were brands, and that Shinsou might have been traded more often than any given item at a second-hand shop. “I can’t imagine what crimes a four year old could commit to make them any less innocent.”

He wants to ask if Shinsou was an anomaly. If the Nomu Organization didn’t have a habit of taking children, if they took adults instead. Vagrants, drug addicts, people that weren’t missed and weren’t looked for as hard as missing children. If Shinsou’s quirk was just too tempting for them, too well suited to what they wanted to use him for. The weapon that they made from a small child.

He won’t ask, because this isn’t related to the investigation. He wants Shinsou to give him a hint of what he already knows from the keylogger, so that he can reassure him more directly. But Shinsou doesn’t respond, his hands flat on the table. “Even if a child like Eri did something heinous with her quirk, she couldn’t be blamed for it. Children that young don’t have control over their quirks.”

That strikes something in Shinsou, like he knew it would. He sees the sharp inhale, the flinch in his hands before he raises them to answer. ‘ E-R-I not. Quirk not like mine. My quirk villainous. ’

It’s not the clearest confession of his worries, but it’s still workable. The leap that he takes can still be believable, and the keylogger’s existence can still be hidden. “ ‘Villainous’ because of its capabilities, or ‘villainous’ because of the risk of Mental Quirk Abuse?”

Shinsou’s eyes widen before he looks down, curling into himself as though he’s waiting for a blow, and Aizawa looks away himself. He might have come across too bluntly.

“Eri was evaluated at the hospital, before she was released,” Aizawa says, wanting to address what he knows is Shinsou’s most pressing concern. “She doesn’t have any symptoms, or any evidence of damage associated with that syndrome. Not all mental quirks can cause it, and some believe that there has to be a harmful intent behind each use to cause damage.”

Shinsou still doesn’t look up, but his hands lift to sign. ‘ Question game. My mom has it. ’

Aizawa expected that the first few questions wouldn’t be questions at all, though he did have a small amount of hope that they would be. He brushes it off regardless, considering whether a reassuring lie would be convincing enough when he didn’t know the answer. “She doesn’t.”

He watches Shinsou sigh in relief, his hands raising to his face before he remembers himself, sitting up straight. Looking at Aizawa again before he glances to the side, but he looks back, gaze settling slightly to the left. ‘ Your turn. ’

He imagines that Shinsou doesn’t believe that this conversation won’t turn into an interrogation, and he imagines that Shinsou would answer even if it did. That he would consider a reassuring lie to be an even exchange for the information that he has guarded so resolutely. But Aizawa won’t take that opportunity. “Have you ever had a cat?”

He can see that Shinsou seems surprised, watching his eyes widen and head tilt just slightly in the pause he takes. ‘ No. ’ His hands curl inward, but he doesn’t ask a question. ‘ Cat toy. M-O-C-H-A. ’

Aizawa knows that Shinsou knows enough JSL to be clearer with his words, but he also knows that Shinsou might be signing in a purposefully vague way. He doesn’t know if Shinsou is referring to the stuffed animal in his room, or one that he had at some point in his childhood, but he takes note of the name anyway. “Your fondness for coffee must have started from a young age.”

He sees a twitch next to Shinsou’s mouth, but doesn’t know whether he’s fighting a smile or frown. He guards his expression too well, even now. ‘ Your favorite coffee. ’

“Black, dark roast,” Aizawa answers, holding back a deluge of brands and brewing methods that would put Midoriya’s ramblings to shame. “Sometimes Americano, if I don’t need as much caffeine. Have you ever had a Mocha?”

‘ No, ’ Shinsou answers, one hand curling in before he signs again. ‘ Y-A-M-A-D-A wants food. I want M-O-C-H-A tomorrow. If okay. ’

Aizawa nods, already seeing through Shinsou too clearly. Hizashi gave him an invitation to make his preferences known, and Shinsou accepted it. But he still sees it as an exchange of some sort, rather than a gesture of kindness. Kindness was just that foreign to Shinsou. “There’s a good coffee shop by the station. Hizashi isn’t exactly a trained barista, though he tried to pick it up as a hobby.”

Aizawa looks at Shinsou’s arms again, forcing himself not to look at the scars, and instead at the black band still left on his arm. Shinsou hides things well, but this might be too much for him to hide, and Aizawa can see it clearly now.

Shinsou is afraid of the meeting tomorrow, and the black band, the empty space where Chisaki’s brand was could be a way of reassuring himself. But Aizawa could offer something better. “The meeting will take place at the police station, at 5. Eri will be with Togata, and both Hizashi and I will go with you. We will be outside the room, while you and Naomasa meet with Chisaki and his lawyer. Chisaki is supposed to apologize to you, but if he deviates from that, or if he tries to threaten you, the meeting will end. And it won’t happen again.”

Shinsou nods shakily, his hands lifting to sign a few times before he places them back down. Aizawa waits, hoping that the relief he wanted to provide was enough. The knowledge of what was to come could be some kind of relief, though he didn’t know if it would be any more bearable. ‘ Time now. ’

Aizawa pulls out his phone, before he realizes that he’s pulled out Shinsou’s. He lays it down on the table between them. “12:37. You can have your phone back as long as you don’t tell my students about the meeting.”

Aizawa still doesn’t trust him not to, but he forces himself to pretend he does. He wouldn’t blame Shinsou if he did, if he reached out to his students the same way he reached out to Bakugo. But he took from a child who had nothing, to protect his students. And in a selfish way, protect himself from knowing how disappointed and disillusioned in him they were.

Shinsou doesn’t take the phone, but he looks at it long enough that Aizawa knows he wants to. Instead, he signs.

‘ I want to go outside. 4 hours and one minute. Will give useless information in exchange. Can. ’ Shinsou stops, glancing away before he looks back. ‘ Can give phone in exchange. ’

Aizawa was willing to play these games of exchange to learn more about Shinsou, but he’s learned little else than how deep these games run. That every little interaction has to be a trade, every request he makes needs to be paid for. Even for something as simple as going outside, something that he does for Eri regardless of how difficult that little request can be at times.

Shinsou shouldn’t feel like a prisoner here, but he does. And when he was a prisoner under the 8 Precepts, he imagines that those trips outside also had to be bargained for. This is what Shinsou knows, this is the game that he knows how to play.

Aizawa won’t take the phone, and he feels all the more disgusted with himself for taking it in the first place. But he will play the game if that makes Shinsou more comfortable.

“We can go outside after you eat, at least half of that,” Aizawa stipulates, knowing that the full meal was likely too much for Shinsou, though he wanted to make sure it was an option. “I can make some steamed buns if that would be easier.”

Shinsou shakes his head, taking up the chopsticks with his left hand, but Aizawa no longers sees it as a deception.

They could play an honest game with each other, and they owed it to each other to do so now.

*

Aizawa wraps the red woolen scarf around his neck, watching the coffee drip into a thermos, and tries to wrap his head around what this situation has become.

Shinsou paid attention to his Hero Ethics class. Willingly .

He didn’t even hesitate to pick up his lesson plans from the office, still wondering if he should start from the beginning of the year for class 3-A’s lecture notes or whether he should start from the very beginning with class 1-A’s. If Shinsou might notice the difference and be insulted that the first topic was a discussion of what the word ‘Ethics’ really meant.

If they could even have a discussion, if Shinsou’s interest in the subject was enough to finally crack the wall built up between them. If his signing could finally be as fluent as it was with Hizashi, rather than those stilted, awkward sentences he shared with Aizawa.

He’s never been more jealous of Hizashi in his life , to know that Shinsou has been such an eager student for Hizashi, while Aizawa never imagined that Shinsou might have wanted to learn something from him.

Especially ethics. His students had to be trained to pay attention, had to be threatened more often than not. In the end, it paid off with attentive and well-educated third years who could answer both philosophical and tactical questions with no hesitation. Heroes who knew themselves well enough to answer to any situation resolutely, and without question.

Out of all of his classes, his Hero Ethics courses were the ones that he enjoyed teaching the most. Principal Nezu had offered more than once to cut them to lighten his coursework, but he never allowed it, could never be forced to choose between the homeroom that established his class as his, and his ethics courses where he could polish every Class A student into the mindset of the hero they wanted to become.

He doesn’t know why Shinsou is interested in his ethics classes, and doubts that he wants to become a hero. In the back of his mind, he knows that Shinsou has the capability to be a great one, but beyond that, he knows that Shinsou isn’t in a place to fathom what he wants to be when he grows up. Before Shinsou could know what occupation he wants to have as an adult, he should at least be able to pick his own clothes to wear, or be able to pass elementary school mathematics.

He’s honestly a little relieved that Shinsou started looking over the notes that Eri took for him. It might be more productive for Shinsou to work on his math, but Aizawa couldn’t remember how to solve that particular algebra equation, and the rest of his test was even less promising.

Aizawa tries to froth the milk with a whisk, but he realizes quickly that it isn’t a proper substitute for the correct method. When he reaches for the chocolate syrup, he can practically hear Recovery Girl chiding him, but he reasons that the decaffeinated coffee and nearly completed lunch makes up for it to some degree. It’s cold outside anyway.

It’s not a Mocha, but it’s the best that Aizawa can make, and he owes it to his newest student to start off with a good first impression.

*

Mirio was acting weird today.

Eri was really glad that he came to get her after Yama’s free class, because she really kind of hates sitting by his desk in front of his whole class. A lot of heroes she doesn’t know keep telling her she’s cute, but they say it in a weird way, like they’re not even talking to her. Even if she wouldn’t be mean and tell Yama she doesn’t like it, she’s really happy she gets to skip Yama’s Class C class, because he really hates it, and they’d probably be really loud when they talk about how cute she is.

She likes that she gets to walk around the school building with Mirio instead, catching monsters on his phone, but he keeps trying to hide his face, or smush it against a wall when she’s not looking. She hopes that Mirio isn’t getting sick, because he said that his teacher let him out of class because they’re doing quirk stuff, but he might have been lying. He might actually be really sick, and if he’s sick, he should be in bed instead of playing monster games with her.

“Mirio, are you okay?” Eri asks, and Mirio looks up from where he had his face smushed against a wall. His face looks really red, like people on TV do when they have a fever, or when they’re really embarrassed.

He gives her a really big smile, and scratches the back of his head a lot. “Yeah! I’m super-duper! I get to hang out with my best buddy today instead of having to go to class, and da-Mic-sensei said we can hang out after school too!”

Eri leans on one of her feet to think better, because Mirio started calling Yama ‘da-Mic-sensei’ today, but his voice gets really squeaky and high when he says the ‘Mic’ part. “Are you giving Yama a new name? Everyone calls Yama ‘Mic-sensei’ or ‘Yamada-sensei,’ but since you’re really good friends, you should have your own name for Yama!”

Mirio closes his mouth really tight, and tries to cover his face with his hands. “Uh, no, that’s not really…” Mirio sighs really loud, and puts a hand behind his head kind of like Zawa does sometimes. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but I had this really silly dream last night that Mic-sensei was my dad. And I guess I can’t stop thinking about how silly it was, because I keep accidentally calling him my dad. It’s just really silly, isn’t it, Eri?”

Eri shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s silly! You both have yellow hair, and you smile a lot, and Yama worries about you a lot like a dad does! And if Yama was your dad, then you could be my real big brother!”

Eri feels her face getting really hot when she remembers that Yama isn’t really her dad, he’s just kind of her TV dad. It must be really silly that she forgets that too.

But it’s really easy to forget that when they do all the dad stuff together, and she gets to live with Yama and Zawa like TV families do. They get to eat together, and Yama and Zawa read her bedtime stories when she asks them to. Zawa always draws cute cats on her omurice, and Yama always takes her on fun shopping trips. She kind of wishes they could pick out a name for her and adopt her already, but they took a long time to pick out their married name and ended up not picking one at all. She might have to wait until she’s really old to get adopted, so she just has to be patient right now.

Mirio looks at her kind of funny, because his eyes look kind of sad, but he still has a smile. It’s just kind of like his smaller one, but different. “I guess it really isn’t that silly, then. Mic-sensei is a really good dad, especially for you. Right, Eri?”

Eri nods, but she still feels really embarrassed. “I don’t know if I can call him that though. Yama might get mad. Or maybe Zawa would get really mad, but…. Maybe I’m not supposed to call them my dad.”

Mirio does his hero pose with his fist in the air, and smiles really big at her. “We can find out! Why don’t we both go to Mic-sensei, and call him ‘Dad’? If he gets really mad or upset, then we’ll know if it’s okay or not! I can go first if you want me to!”

Eri nods a lot, because she’s still kind of scared that Yama might not want her to call him ‘Dad,’ but she knows that he wants Mirio to, because he talks about Mirio’s dad in a kind of mean voice. And if Yama doesn’t like Mirio’s dad, it must mean that Yama wants to be a better dad for Mirio.

Mirio picked her up, and started carrying her to Yama’s class, and it was a really good idea to do that. The doors of the other classes opened up, and a lot of heroes ran out the door really quick, and Eri might have gotten lost with all the heroes around.

Yama looks kind of mad at his phone, but he looks up and smiles when Mirio walks into the classroom. “Hey listeners! Did you have fun cutting class to chase around pocket monsters?”

“Sure did, D…” Mirio stops talking, and he has to smile really big before he starts again. “Dad! Eri, did you have fun?”

Yama doesn’t look like he’s mad at Mirio, because he kind of looks like he’s trying not to move at all. Eri can’t kick one of her feet, but she knows that Mirio really wants her to call Yama ‘Dad,’ because he said it already. “I had a lot of fun, Dad!”

Yama still doesn’t look like he’s mad, but his face gets really really red, like he’s really sick, and he looks behind him for a while. But then he turns around, and he has a really big, really nice smile on his face. “I’m really glad you guys had fun! We should, uh, head home I guess! School’s over and all, and I know you missed seeing Shinsou today, and um. Yeah! Let’s head over there, then!”

Yama picks up his stuff really quick, and he almost forgets her backpack. But when he walks over, he doesn’t give her backpack back for her to carry.

Yama gives her and Mirio a really big hug, and even if she gets a little smushed trying to hug Yama back while Mirio does too, Eri still kind of likes it. Especially when Yama messes up her hair and Mirio’s too, when he rubs his hands all over their heads. “I’m really glad that I’ve got such great kids.”

Eri’s really glad that she has such great dads, and she even gets to call them that.

NC

As soon as the wards and Togata walk through the door, Hizashi throws Aizawa a bottle of his medicated eyedrops. “You’re going to need that.”

And Aizawa knows exactly what kind of argument this is.

He follows Hizashi silently across campus, to Gym Gamma, and watches as Hizashi dismisses the few students already there, lying that the gym was already rented out for the hour. Aizawa tries not to be concerned with that number, trying to convince himself that this should take 30 minutes at most.

But when his husband turns on his heel to look at him, Aizawa isn’t sure of that, and he uses the eyedropper to prepare himself.

“So! Where to start!” Hizashi says, clapping his hands together as he begins pacing. This will be a bad one. “Oh, how about WHY DID YOu tell Bakugo to convince Shinsou to talk about the investigation?! YOU KNOW what Bakugo is dealing with, and YOU SHOULDn’t have done this little trauma project in THE FIRST PLACE. HE hasn’t slept in three days, SHOU! HIS FRIENDS are worried, and I’m worried too! You should have seen Kirishima, HE’S WORRIED SICK and just- WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

Aizawa closes his eyes, placing his hands over them to help them recover a bit faster. His hair has almost worked itself out of its tie, but he won’t ask for a break for Hizashi to give him enough time to re-tie it. “I was hoping that Bakugo could convince him. They seem to be close-”

“SO SHINSOU’S FIRst friend should just manipulate him like that?! And don’t get me started on the little spy ring you’ve got going on! LET ME TELL YOU, that’s over! Done! Your little mole is burned! The KEYLOGGER IS CREEPY ENOUGH, SHOU!”

He’s getting out of practice, and has to sign for Hizashi to stop, working two more eyedrops in while he blinks against the light. When he feels like his eyelids won’t stick with every blink, he sighs, knowing that this will only get Hizashi started on a much higher note. “I took Shinsou’s phone and looked through some of the chat today. I won’t do it again.”

He knows that he’s really done it, because Hizashi just gapes at him. He knows that Hizashi doesn’t do it on purpose, but when he mouths silently like that, it’s harder to detect when he begins to speak. “YOU TOOK HIS PHONE?! SHou, you can’t- YOU KNOW. YOU LOOKED THROUGH HIS…”

Hizashi spins on his heel, running his hands through his hair to start to free it from the gel. Aizawa knows that he’s cutting himself off because Aizawa hasn’t used his quirk to do it. He feels like he’s more than earned the ringing in his ears at this point.

“Babe,” Hizashi says, spinning around with his hands pressed together in front of him. He can tell by the wince that he’s struggling to monitor his own quirk, something that becomes almost impossible when he gets that worked up. “I know you and Shinsou don’t get along that great. I DON’T- I don’t get it, because you’re honestly just so alike, it’s scary. Like, if I wasn’t there, I’d swear you were having sex with a woman when you were 16. And I know you weren’t.”

Aizawa still doesn’t see what Hizashi does. Cats, coffee, the odd observation about their teeth that Todoroki made. Their similarities are so superficial, and he knows that his husband knows them both well enough to see past that.

“But, seriously, can you try? Try to get along with the kid? Forget the investigation, and if you tried to get anything from him today, I SWEAR, I will very seriously consider divorcing you! But just- Shou, really. The kid has been through enough, both of these kids have, and they don’t need any more from you.”

“I’m trying,” Aizawa says, rubbing at his ear while he considers keeping this from Hizashi for the sake of his ear drums, before he decides against it. “He gave me information that could be critical-”

“SHOU I SWEAR-”

“He offered it,” Aizawa says, keeping his quirk active until Hizashi crosses his arms, closing his mouth. Hopefully willing to listen. “There’s a question game that he plays. I tried to use it just to have a conversation with the kid, but he told me to pick a number. Those numbers are members of the Nomu Organization.”

Hizashi glares, but he nods.

“There’s a chance that Naomasa can work with that information, and give The Commission a reason not to go through with the meeting tomorrow,” Aizawa says, grimacing. “I doubt that it will be enough, but there’s a chance. If we offer proof that Shinsou is willing to talk, as long as we don’t stress him with something like this.”

Hizashi sighs, his head tipping back while he rubs at his forehead. “But Chisaki has better intel, so they won’t , the insufferable pricks. God, I always thought that Nemuri was exaggerating.”

Aizawa knows, but he can’t sit on the information that Shinsou gave him when there was a chance that it could be useful. “We had a nice day. Talked. He...actually pays attention to my class.”

Hizashi smiles at him, lifting an eyebrow. “He’s a smart kid, Shou. He wants to learn anything, even if it’s your stuffy little philosophy mumbo-jumbo. And maybe, he just likes learning stuff from you.”

Aizawa unties his hair, ignoring that implication. He doubts it too much to consider it a possibility. “He wants a mocha, instead of food. As much as you hate my ‘spy ring,’ making your own is rather hypocritical.”

Hizashi rolls his eyes.

“How was Eri today?” Aizawa asks, knowing that if that little jab didn’t set off another argument, then the argument was well and over with.

Hizashi looks nervous, trying to smooth over his hair while he tries to look anywhere but at Aizawa. “Uh, you know. Good! A little down about Shinsou staying home, but you know. She called me ‘Dad’?”

Aizawa bites down on an incredibly irrational thought, an illogical bitterness that Yamada was called that first, and sighs. “It might be the separation. I knew it was too soon for them to be apart for that long-”

“Babe, uh,” Hizashi interrupts, fidgeting with his headphones. “Maybe it’s not? I mean, we’re… You know, taking care of her, living with her. She’s a little kid, and she needs a dad, or two dads, and I wouldn’t… be opposed?”

Aizawa doesn’t know what to say to that.

Hizashi is being so completely irrational that it stirs up something illogical in him. Something that feels like it’s clicking into place, that conversation about legal names, the red eyes that Eri drew on his birthday present. How easy it is to relax with her warm little weight on his chest, to smile at every little accomplishment she makes. How often he’s caught himself wondering about school districts, when he knows that Eri won’t be able to attend a proper school until she’s gained control over her quirk.

“It’s been a month,” Aizawa says, unable to say it to Hizashi’s face, instead looking at the nearest sparring court painted on the ground. “We shouldn’t be thinking like that.”

“But,” Hizashi says, walking towards him to drape an arm over his shoulders, pulling him in close so he can’t escape. “You wouldn’t be opposed either?”

“We need to give it time,” Aizawa answers, which is a non-answer that he knows his husband can see through immediately. He just hopes that he can still hear the part that means caution, awareness. Eri has been through enough, and she deserves to have a place and a family that will give her the best in life.

That might not mean two heroes with five jobs between them, whose life expectancies are shorter than other industries. She’s terrified of the sight of blood, and Aizawa can’t promise that he can always hide that from her when his patrols line up with Hizashi’s, and they both come home wounded.

But that wouldn’t be for lack of trying. They would both try to give her the best in life, but they need to consider whether they can.

“We’ll give it time,” Hizashi says, wrapping his other arm around Aizawa. “And Mirio called me ‘Dad’ too, so-”

“ Hizashi. ” Hizashi almost won that argument with Todoroki, but he won’t let him win with Togata. “Togata has a father.”

“Who hasn’t called him since the raid,” Hizashi argues. “Who didn’t even visit him in the hospital-”

“Togata,” Aizawa starts, considers leaving out the truth before he remembers who he’s talking to. The man who would see through it before the words even left his mouth. “Didn’t want him to. He asked me to make sure he wouldn’t.”

He feels Hizashi recoil a bit, not pulling away from the one-sided embrace completely, but enough to know that information is shocking. “Why would he do that, Shou? He needed someone there, especially after….”

Aizawa shakes his head. “In one of his assignments, he mentioned that his father had reservations about his becoming a hero. I imagine he didn’t want to hear any reassurances that he could still take over the family business.”

Togata wasn’t meant to be a grocer, despite the warm smile and cheerful demeanor that Aizawa had no doubt would fall off his face within a week. Permeation was a quirk that most wrote off as pedestrian, but Togata worked hard to mold it into something heroic. It was that kind of willpower hiding beneath the surface that left Aizawa with no doubts that he would regain his quirk and be a better hero for it. If Togata had already changed his quirk’s utility to suit his needs, he had no doubt that he could do the impossible, and mold his current circumstances to fit his vision of the future.

“If he wants that support from you, that’s good. But that doesn’t mean you should start filing for adoption for every student who calls you ‘Dad,’” Aizawa says, tipping his head back to his husband’s shoulder as he tries to imagine how many children they would have adopted by this point. The dorm situation had not helped, but it was a common enough slip of the tongue beforehand, to the point that a new instructor couldn’t truly call themselves a teacher until it happened.

“If you say so,” Hizashi sighs, his hands wandering a bit lower than they should, considering that they were in a building that Aizawa knew Principal Nezu had surveillance cameras.

“I need to call Naomasa,” Aizawa says, trying to pull himself away from his husband, only to be pulled back even tighter.

“Mm, text him. We’ve got 45 minutes and you’ve got two hands,” Hizashi whispers into his ear, before his voice drops lower. “And I bet I can make you call me-”

He can’t silence Hizashi with his quirk anymore, but the hair that catches in his mouth is enough to do the trick. “ Never. Say that. Again.”

It takes much longer to text Naomasa than it should have.

*

Yamada watches Shouta open the door before he closes it, and braces his arms against it. “Zashi. How many students called you ‘Dad’ today?”

Yamada can’t help but grin, just to egg him on, before he fluffs Shouta’s hair to cover up what the missing capture scarf couldn’t. “How many little herolets are behind door number one?”

“Too many,” Shouta says, offering a half-hearted glare before he glances over his shoulder. “It’s Togata’s responsibility, he can tell us when they leave-”

“Hey!” Mirio says, opening the door with a smile and a wave, though both falter. “So, a few of Shinsou’s friends wanted to stop by and bring some soup, I hope that’s okay. It’s really tasty! You should try some!”

Shouta didn’t give him a headcount, which was worrying enough, but with the strain behind Mirio’s eyes, Yamada is worried that most of Class 1-A has crammed themselves into their dorm. Between himself and Shouta, he’s definitely the more sociable one, but even that would be pushing his limit. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good! We should try some, that was very thoughtful of them!”

When Mirio backs away from the door, Yamada breathes a sigh of relief to see only five herolet invaders, though he doesn’t miss which ones they were. Other than Bakugo, almost every Class 1-A student who participated in the raid had decided to show up, and he can tell by how Shouta stiffens that he doesn’t miss that worrying implication either.

Then he notices what shirt Shinsou is wearing, and wonders if his husband noticed the students at all.

Shinsou is sitting at the table, eating a bowl of soup, but from the way that Bakugo is crouched so close to him and watching every spoonful he takes, it seems less and less willing. It looks like a slightly different method of force-feeding.

Uraraka seems a bit concerned about that too, standing in the kitchen as if on guard to keep the force feeding from becoming something more forceful. Though she seems a little distracted by the Sailor Moon episode that Kirishima, Midoriya, and Eri are watching. Eri seems a little distracted herself, making a mess of Kirishima’s gelled hair to work in as many decorative hair ties as possible, and Midoriya sits behind her to give her two lopsided pigtails.

There’s also a giant black bag sitting at the corner of the couch with a blanket thrown over it, that Mirio immediately stands in front of.

Maybe things had gotten a little out of control for their babysitter/possible son while they were fooling around in Gym Gamma. And maybe Yamada had no idea how to manage it. But if he doesn’t say something soon, Shouta will just start glaring and threatening to expel all the thoughtful little herolets who made the effort to check on Shinsou, and Yamada wouldn’t stand for that.

Especially when Bakugo was proving to be very effective, dumping another ladle of soup into Shinsou’s bowl, which Shinsou met with a rather catty sign. But no hesitation in continuing to eat it.

“Well, it looks like we’re a little late to the party!” Yamada says, trying to ignore the messy and deflated state of his hair, and the urge to pull his collar up a bit higher just in case a telling flash of red showed.

“The one being thrown in our own home,” Shouta deadpans, which always made for great commentary at the Sports Festivals, but was not helping the awkward vibe.

“Sorry for intruding! We just noticed that Shinsou wasn’t at school today, which might have been related to the- uh, thing! But it might also have been because he was sick, and we would have asked permission or about the situation if we thought of it during English, but Ectoplasm-sensei didn’t know the situation either, and-” Midoriya’s ramblings cut off when Mirio placed his hand none-too-gently on his head, almost slapping it like it was a ‘Stop’ button.

“And, you know, can’t let good soup go to waste! It was my fault, really,” Mirio says, wincing after he does. “But maybe it’s time to leave?”

Eri pulls a pout when she looks at Mirio, and Yamada begins to suspect that this is truly the most adorable hostage situation that they’ve ever walked into. “But we’re having fun! It’s a party!”

Shinsou in particular looks like he’s having a blast . So much so that Yamada can practically see the life draining from his eyes as he drops his spoon into the bowl, prompting Bakugo to offer encouragement. “Oi, weak ass twiggy bitch, you gonna let the soup win? Can’t even finish a full fucking meal, and you want to talk all that shit?”

Shinsou look at Yamada, the plea plain in his eyes before he sign whispers it. ‘ Help. ’

“I’m sure the herolets will be happy to throw an even bigger party this weekend at the dorm! That way, everyone’s invited to boogie down and clown around!” Yamada offers, trying to negotiate with the little terrorist who has too many heroes and hero students wrapped around her little finger.

Including him. When that pout turns to him, he has to look away, to stay strong for Shinsou’s sake, but luckily the heroes win this time. “Okay,” Eri concedes, her chin tucked to her chest while she looks as pitiful as she possibly can, but Red Riot is there to cinch the victory.

“Yeah, we were already thinking of ordering pizza! We can watch a few movies, have a fun time, and you can definitely make my hair this super manly again!” Kirishima says with a grin that betrays nothing, but his hands are already working fast to pull out every plastic butterfly or cat that’s currently adorning his hair.

“ Please study ,” Shouta grates out, his concern about missing a day the week before midterms flaring back to life. “There’s already one interruption to your study schedules that you need to compensate for.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” Midoriya mutters, scratching the side of his head before Shouta waves him off.

“All of you have been given the appropriate amount of time to do well, and if you fail to take advantage of it, it’s on you,” Shouta adds, earning the title for Biggest Party Pooper Ever in record time. “Now leave.”

And there was that signature Shouta Charm that Yamada grew to love. It was easy to love as it was to hug a cactus, but it definitely did come in handy.

Each little herolet bid their goodbyes to Shinsou and Eri in turn, though Bakugo whispered something after slapping Shinsou’s shoulder, and Yamada tried not to wonder why Shinsou didn’t lash out in return. If this weird little friendship forming between Shinsou and Bakugo was actually a bit of bullying, Yamada wouldn’t hesitate to switch Bakugo’s midterm exam with Ashido’s. It would be a very easy mistake to make.

Before he could stop Mirio from making his exit, Mirio picks up the black bag, having to wrap his arms around it to hold it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got this for Shinsou. Surprise!”

Shinsou does look surprised, if not a little wary as he gets up to take the gift from Mirio. And once it was in his arms, he looked like he was a little at a loss for what to do with it. Until Eri jumped in to help. “Open it! I wanna see what big brother Mirio got you!”

Shinsou set it on the floor to start untying the knot at the top, but once he started pulling it out, he quickly pulled the giant plushie into the air with a rare, unguarded smile.

And Yamada wished he had thought to record it, not just to capture that smile from Shinsou, but because the oversized Pokemon plushie was wearing the same one. But then he looked at Mirio and saw that he was a bit more prepared, snapping another picture from his phone.

And Yamada decided he didn’t care what Shouta thought, if Mirio wanted him to adopt him, he was ready to sign the papers now . His son was an amazing hero, so smart and compassionate and thoughtful.

“Oh, can you hold it like this?” Mirio asks, demonstrating a bear hug. And there’s something in his eyes that betrays exactly how thoughtful his possible son is. Thoughtful in a way that’s borderline a little creepy.

In a way that explains why Mirio so insistently wanted to know the exact length of Shinsou’s arms and waist.

But when Shinsou does, he can’t really complain, because it’s adorable. The plushie is so big that he can’t quite wrap his arms around it, and so long that it swallows up his torso to his knees. The smile might have faded away, but it’s replaced by a blush that makes Yamada want to bury his face in his hands to make sure his own face isn’t heating up.

He needs Mirio to send those pictures to him immediately.

Shinsou signs ‘ Thank you ,’ struggling with the plushie still held in his arms, and Yamada wishes Mirio had taken a video instead. Especially when Eri reaches up to pet the plushie, and he realizes that it’s bigger than she is. She could use it as a bed , and that’s entirely too adorable to even think about.

“It’s no big deal! I’m glad you like it!” Mirio says, putting his phone away, though Yamada won’t let him leave until he sends those pictures. “Grengar is your favorite, right?”

That half-smile works up over Shinsou’s face as he nods, but when he notices Eri’s attention, he lowers the plushie to the floor, to confirm that Eri could absolutely sleep on it , and if she did, Yamada might die. He nearly does when she wraps her arms around it, and can’t even begin to reach around. Shinsou repeats himself more clearly, ‘ Thank you. ’

“ ‘Thank you’ for the ‘Thank you,’” Mirio says with a laugh, signing a little awkwardly. “I haven’t learned ‘You’re welcome’ yet, but I’m working on it!”

Shinsou signs it first, but that’s not stopping Yamada. “Well, we can work on some JSL while we’re catching up on dinner! Whatdya say, sport?”

Yamada regrets it when he sees that falter in Mirio’s smile, one that disappears as quickly as Shinsou’s rare expressions. In the back of his mind, he knew that Mirio might have called him ‘Dad’ for Eri’s sake, to take it upon himself as her own personal hero to help her work up the courage. That he might be acting a bit too fast and too bold here, but he’s always had that bad habit. Shouta tries to be the brakes to his speeding car, but sometimes he’s a bit too fast for him.

But Mirio is a good kid, and he smiles like he means it this time. “That sounds great! As long as you’ll have me!”

Shouta could say whatever he wants, but between Mirio’s eager signing, Shinsou’s persistent help, and Eri’s quick progress on her own JSL knowledge, the soup they shared wasn’t just tasty.

It felt like a family dinner.


End file.
